


At the Water's Edge

by Alma_Arc



Series: Like Metal in Water [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Being Lost, Best Friends, Denzel wants to be brave, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Character Death, Suspense, Underage Drug Use, Violence, but is in way over his head
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-26 14:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alma_Arc/pseuds/Alma_Arc
Summary: Marlene is determined to find out what happened to Cloud, and it's up to Denzel to keep her safe. With Tifa gone, it's already difficult enough to cope and now he's trying to protect Marlene from the worst of it while finding everything he's lost along the way.





	1. Adrenaline and Bad Dreams

Denzel hadn't run this much in his life. Harsh daylight blinded him at once as he burst outside into the hot air of the town of Icicle Inn. Muggy, crowded, noisy. The altered weather in Meteor's wake had melted most of the ice around the crater, and the town was now constantly filled with tourists. Denzel rushed into the crowds in a dizzying frenzy, into the rush of swimming anonymity. He had to move forward. He had to keep going. He glanced over his shoulder once, but there was no pursuit. It didn't matter, though. Denzel fell, scraping his palms on the dirty concrete, then stumbled as he propelled himself back up from the ground and kept on running.

The last time he'd run like this in such terror had been at that awful prank Marlene pulled last year on him. She'd become such a trickster over the last year since Barret was over in Corel more. What Denzel wouldn't give to have Marlene with him now instead of… he glanced again behind him. Still nothing through the crowds, although a few people were giving him distinct glances of annoyance or concern.

That didn't matter. None of it mattered. He needed to get to a pay phone.

Turning swiftly around a corner, he immediately collided with a dark suit.

"Hey, watch it, you stupid kid!"

Denzel stumbled back and fell once more to the ground. The man towered above him, bright red hair in stark contrast to the vast blue sky above.

"Hey, wait a minute… aren't you that kid? Uh, Strife's kid?"

Denzel blinked and looked up at the man. Yes, he was quite familiar. Oh no, now he remembered him.

Picking himself off the floor, Denzel tried bolting back the way he came and instead was cut off by another dark suit. A bald man with sunglasses.

"S-s-stay away from me!" Denzel shouted, "I know you. I remember you! Tifa had told me never to talk to you!"

This elicited a laugh from the red-headed man. "Oh yeah? Hm. Tifa's kid then. That makes sense, I guess," he remarked to his partner.

The bald man said nothing.

"Whatcha doin' way up here, kid? Aren't you, uh, supposed to be in Edge? What happened to your arm?"

Denzel saw an opening in the spacing of the crowds directly behind the talkative suit and dove for it. Sliding through a group of tourists lugging suitcases, Denzel ran off at top speed, evading numerous further obstacles and not looking back.

He had to get off the street. He had to get out of sight. If Cloud were looking for him…

A sign towards the edge of the next street corner caught his eye. Store for rent. That meant vacant. Somewhere to hide.

Denzel pushed through another gaggle of people and reached the storefront. It's windows were boarded up and the door was broken, glass shards edging the metal frame. Within, it was dark aside from a few patches of light bleeding through the spaces in the boards. Okay, fine, Denzel thought, this will do for now. Just to catch his breath.

There was no time to find an alternative. With those two suits, Denzel was sure they'd bring him back to Cloud if they caught him. Did they even know about Tifa? Denzel fell back against the side of the building and inched towards the broken door while the crowds continued flowing along the sidewalks. Casual, easy, don't draw attention.

Then he was in. Quickly moving away from the door, Denzel crouched in the corner of the immediate wall next to the entry, carefully watching to see if anyone followed him. But nothing outside looked out of the ordinary. He realized his hands were shaking and carefully folded them against his abdomen. Stop, stop, he commanded, and held one palm against his forearm trying to staunch the blood flow.

Finally he leaned back and closed his eyes, still holding his wound and taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Once he was absolutely certain those suits were gone and that Cloud hadn't followed him, he resolved to leave town. But how? It would be impossible to book a flight with no money, and he didn't have a phone on him to call for help. If he could just get to a pay phone, maybe someone would give him a few gil and then he could -

A snap of broken glass grabbed his attention. In the dimly lit interior, Denzel could make out the space of an empty storefront covered in litter and refuse, old storage containers and metal wire shelving. A few discarded advertisements. This place had once been a materia shop, according to the leftover signage. Now bits of torn paper fluttered in the air like dust, and a thick coat of grime covered everything.

"H...Hello?" Denzel called cautiously. The stinging sensation in his arm had been starting to kick in since his adrenaline was settling, but now this faint noise had immediately perked it right back up and the pain in his arm was distant once more.

But there was nothing.

Faint yellow from the outside world cut in and out as pedestrians walked past, blocking out the light at various interludes. In one such interlude, Denzel swore he saw something move in the corner and he immediately knew he wasn't safe. What was that Cloud had once told him? If you ever think you're in trouble, assess the threat, assess your options, and remain calm. And what if that threat is him, Denzel thought grimly. Fuck, figure it out. But he couldn't go back outside. Not yet. The suits could be there.

Another sound, like the crunch of broken bottles under someone's boot.

"I have a … a weapon!" Denzel spoke to the darkness. He didn't, but maybe that wouldn't matter. Sweat was sticking his clothes to his body and his hair was matted against his forehead.

Suddenly, there was a hand right behind him. A person emerged from the corner and grabbed Denzel's hair with one hand then put an arm around his neck, and instantly there was the hot breath of someone near his ear.

"Don't move, kiddo…" A low snarl. "You got any money?"

Denzel frantically shook his head and sputtered, "No! Let me go!"

Hit him with your elbow then spin and twist his arm away from you, Denzel felt he could practically hear Tifa telling him this. But she was gone. Hot tears were already in his eyes, but he obeyed the voice and jerked his elbow back suddenly, hitting the assailant hard, then he grabbed the other's arm and twisted hard, pulling away at once.

A squeal of pain ejected from the other guy and Denzel spun to face him, backing away while still holding his arm, slippery with blood from the prior wound.

It was a junkie. Denzel could tell by the look in his eyes. That dim glow. A junkie who apparently had already been in here, squatting here maybe. Shit, Denzel knew he'd been stupid to come in here while still in a hazy rush. Never do anything when your emotions have you. That would be Elmyra saying that. If he ever saw Elmyra again.

"Look, man, I don't have any money. So just stay away from me…" Denzel kept his eyes locked on the junkie and continued backing away, though further into the darkness. The door was directly to the junkie's right and that meant he'd need to dash directly past him.

A cold smile spread across the older man's face. "You picked the wrong place, kid. I don't believe you don't have any gil. You reek of money. I can see that nice new backpack, and your fresh clean clothes. What's with the bloody arm?"

The man cocked his head to one side, examining Denzel. Suddenly, the junkie withdrew a blade. A dagger. Short, serrated. Denzel's eyes went wide.

"N-n-no...Please, it was a mistake! I'm… I need to hide from…." Denzel held out one arm as if that could protect him and his eyes kept darting between the man and the door and all the obstacles that lay in between escape.

Now the suits didn't seem all that bad. Hell, even Cloud would be a nice sight. Wait, let's not go too far, Denzel reigned his thoughts in. Focus. Think. He just needed to get to the door, then to a pay phone, then… then what? Worry about that when we get there, he commanded himself.

But the junkie moved. Fast. The steel dagger flashed forward, and there was a glint of daylight as it caught a beam shining between the boarded windows. Denzel reacted, adrenaline already flying through him. He darted to one side and fell back. The junkie was right on top of him, stabbing again and slashing towards him.

Behind him, on the floor, Denzel found a broken shard of glass and grabbed it like a lifeline, not caring that it cut into his palm, not feeling the slow pause of time as the knife in the other man's hand traveled towards him, cutting, shining. There was blood already covering Denzel's hand from the cut on his forearm and the shard of glass was almost too difficult to hold, but there was no more time. Survival charged through him and Denzel gripped the shard and brought it across the space directly next to the junkie's neck just as the man was coming towards him, deadly intent clear on his face.

Then time resumed and the man screamed. The shard of glass was buried deep in his neck. Denzel yelped and released the broken chunk, shuffling backwards on the floor away from the man now spurting blood and curses. Denzel had seen people die before, he'd seen the vast amount of blood that seemed so impossible for one human to carry spill all over the floor. But it always startled him to no end, and he'd never been the one to make the killing blow.

Gurgling and sputtering angrily, the junkie collapsed into a heap then lay deathly still. Blood continued pooling outward and Denzel felt sick. In another moment, he vomited harshly all over the floor, crying and backing away in a blur. The dagger lay at the dead man's feet. Denzel snatched it up, unable to comprehend why he'd done it but he just knew that he had to. He knew he had to run. His hand stung horribly when he picked up the piece.

The world once again became a haze of instinct and pulse. Run. Run now! But his hands were shaking again and he couldn't get the dagger into his backpack quickly. Blood was everywhere. Finally, the zipper closed and Denzel stood, holding his injured hand tenderly against his side.

Immediately, he flew towards the broken door and pulled himself through the jarred frame. But outside, it became clear at once that he had nowhere to go. He couldn't escape. The suits stood right there, directly outside the vacant storefront, blocking any path out into the street. They stood out against the flow of the crowd like two rocks in a tidepool.

"F-f-f-fuck," Denzel stammered.

"Ready to talk now, Strife's kid?" The red-haired one asked.

The bald one with the sunglasses crossed his arms over his chest, but remained silent.

"Looks like you're in a real mess now," the Turk said with a grin, peering behind Denzel into the abandoned store.

"What do you want?" Denzel tried his best brave voice.

Reno let out a laugh. "My partner here thinks it would be...impolite if we didn't inquire after the curious wherabouts of Lockhart's, uh, household kid. You are their kid, right?"

But it had all caught up with Denzel and he didn't feel brave at all anymore. The torrent of blood gushing from the dead man's neck was fresh in his mind, as was the image of the glass jutting from his artery. The glass that he had shoved there. In defense. And all at once, tears welled up in his eyes, horrible and unwanted, but he couldn't stop them.

He was crying, and he couldn't stop.

The bald suit grimaced and the redhead sighed.

"I...I need a phone…." Denzel managed to get out between awful attempts to stifle his tears.

* * *

It all felt like so long ago when Denzel was rescued by the unlikely pair of Turks who had simply been in the right place at the wrong time, but he knew that much time hadn't really passed. Half lost in thought, Denzel traced the scar on the inside of his palm where the shard had cut him deep. If he hadn't run into them, if they hadn't let him call Yuffie from one of their phones…

Denzel brushed the thought away with a sigh. It was pointless to wonder what could have or could not have happened. He'd been lucky and that was that. He still remembered that phone call to Yuffie so clearly. Trembling with the phone in his bloodied hand, he was praying, positively praying that she would pick up despite the strange number he was no doubt calling from. Oddly enough, Yuffie had done so on nearly the second ring. She actually knew his number.

"Reno…?" the ninja's voice had been suspicious. "Is this about Tifa?"

At the sound of her voice, Denzel couldn't stop a fresh torrent of tears though and it had taken him several seconds to orient himself and get any words out at all. And when he did, it was barely much more than a plea for help. To come get him in Icicle Inn, if she could. To bring him home to Edge.

But that hadn't been his home anymore. Not in months. Tifa was gone. Marlene was in Kalm.

Yuffie arrived with her friend, Cid, on an airship and the Turks had silently departed, although the redhead did give a tiny wave almost in a mocking way. Denzel had stayed with the Turks until she arrived only on account that he figured they were likely the only ones around that could potentially put up a fight if Cloud had shown up. He hadn't, of course, which brought Denzel equal parts relief and somehow disappointment. There had still been a part of him that was hoping he was wrong about Cloud all along. Denzel curled his palm into a fist. He wasn't wrong.

Letting out a sigh, Denzel stood and stretched. He couldn't sleep again, and he decided to head outside and at least wander to let his thoughts go. Sometimes walking helped. Sometimes not.

He was in the bedroom that he shared with Marlene, inside Elmyra's house in Kalm. Marlene was asleep in the bunk above him, and the entire house was quiet and dark with only a rustling of wind outside the moonlit window. Carefully stepping towards the door, he glanced back over at the bunk beds and saw that Marlene actually wasn't sleeping at all. She was watching him silently with her big brown eyes in the bluish light of night.

"Marlene, go to sleep. I'm going out for a walk," he said to her.

"...I had a bad dream," she confessed softly, "Don't go."

This caused him to pause. Bad dreams had become frequent for Marlene since Tifa died, and Denzel didn't blame her. It had been a hard series of months to fill.

"Sure, okay," Denzel allowed with a nod then stepped over to her. His head was at the same height as her bunk and he leaned against it with one arm. "So what was it this time?"

"It was Cloud."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, he was hurt…"

"Doesn't sound like a bad dream to me."

"No, Denzel, he was really hurt. Like blood and stuff." She curled under the covers and shivered.

Denzel watched her, waiting for her to continue, but she didn't.

"Well, if I had that sorta dream, I wouldn't think much of it," he said, trying his best to be comforting.

"This one was really real," Marlene lamented, pulling the blanket up higher under her chin. "Denzel, I'm scared," she said softly.

Marlene was already nine years old, but she still managed to look like such a baby when she was scared. Denzel sighed.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Marlene. It was just a dream," he said gently.

"What if it was a premmunition?"

"A what?"

Marlene huffed. "Like seeing the future," she explained.

"Nobody can see the future, Marlene," Denzel replied, staring at a loose thread on her blanket, "If that were possible, none of any bad stuff would ever happen."

They both fell silent. Marlene ruffled the sheets a bit and inched closer to Denzel.

"I miss Tifa," she said.

"Don't start." Denzel turned away.

"...Sorry, I just…" Tears were already starting to well, though.

"Be brave, like I said," Denzel said, catching her eyes as he gazed back. "Brave," he repeated to her.

Marlene paused and let out a breath then nodded. The tears receded. "Brave," she iterated.

"Tifa may be gone, but I'm still here," he told her, "We'll stick together. That's what families do, I think."

A slight smile glimpsed through Marlene's fright and her face relaxed a bit.

"Will you stay up until I fall back asleep?" Marlene asked, her voice still small.

Denzel glanced over at the window and saw that the moon was visible, bright and clear. It was a long way from dawn, and he knew he'd be unable to sleep anyways.

"Sure thing, Marlene," he agreed, then gave her a tiny smile. A walk tonight was no longer possible.

Denzel sat on the bunk beneath her and kept his hand on the wood of the bunk above, to reassure her that he was right there.

"Do you ever have bad dreams?" Marlene's voice crept through the silence.

He thought for a moment. "Sure, everyone does, I mean."

"What are your bad dreams about?"

His hand dropped and he leaned back against the pillow, watching the moon outside edge closer to the window pane. It was a clear night, with specks of stars in the darkness. Every time his eyes closed, he felt he was back there, in that awful moment with blood trailing from his arm. There were actually two places that always repeated in his head. Two places that he dreamt about. Two moments where he still felt trapped.

Finally, he answered Marlene. He chose the lesser of the two to tell her.

"...Running. I dream that I'm running."


	2. Just Like an Action Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denzel wants to recover something of sentimental value, and both kids learn a disturbing bit of information, prompting Marlene to take action.

The bus ride into town had taken longer than expected, and they arrived in the city late in the afternoon. It was the third weekend of the month, so that meant going into Edge with Elmyra. This was their routine, the three of them. It began right around the time that Denzel had returned, when Elmyra had that awful fit and fell from her chair during dinner. Denzel hadn’t known what to do, fork frozen in bandaged hand. Marlene had screamed and rushed over to the older woman, but Elmyra had already recovered and was hushing the girl and telling her everything was okay. 

Everything was okay, except now they all took the bus into the city every other weekend because Elmyra went to the hospital here. It was better than the doctor in Kalm, she had said. Denzel wasn’t sure why they couldn’t just use a materia on her in Kalm, but Elmyra told him this wasn’t that type of problem. 

The bus pulled into the station and they were greeted with a plume of exhaust from the multitude of other buses parked nearby as they exited. The station was near the slums on the north side of the city. Denzel took Marlene’s hand and followed alongside Elmyra as they weaved through the crowds of people and descended into the metro station. After a stuffy train ride around the ring of the city, they emerged near the hospital which still had the ShinRa logo plastered atop though it was technically no longer run by ShinRa, Elmyra had said, but Denzel wasn’t really sure because all the doctors still had the logo on their scrubs and coats. 

They halted outside the entrance of the towering structure, near the large sliding glass doors and the nauseous fluorescent interior. 

“Now, Denzel,” Elmyra bent slightly to speak to him, “Why don’t you take Marlene over to the movies while I go to my appointment?” She smiled kindly and slipped several gil into his hand, then patted his shoulder. 

“Sure,” Denzel smiled back and cautiously looked behind her towards the hospital. It always felt strange saying goodbye to her right here, like she would walk in there and disappear forever. He was never allowed to come in with her, but she wanted him nearby in the city. Just in case, she had said, but she never said in case of what exactly. 

But she always came back and they always went home to Kalm in the evening, and today would be no different. Denzel squeezed Marlene’s hand. 

“Okay, see you at four o’clock,” Elmyra straightened and nodded at them both, “Right here. Don’t be late or I’ll worry.”

“If you’d just get me a phone, you’d never have to worry.”

Elmyra chuckled. “Maybe next month. You know money is tight right now.” Then she lovingly touched his cheek and kissed his forehead before doing the same to Marlene. “Mind the time. Be here at four,” she repeated sternly. 

Once she had disappeared into the hospital, Denzel and Marlene headed off in the opposite direction towards the shopping district nearby where the movie theater was located. 

“What movie do you wanna see?” Marlene asked, but before he could reply she went on, “I wanna see the one with that guy who’s trying to get back home, but he has to like fight all these bad guys and then his friends don’t recognize him anymore and he has to fight them too!”

It took Denzel a minute to recall which trailer she was referring to. “Oh, no, Marlene, that’s not a kid’s movie.” She’d become fascinated with action movies recently for some reason. “C’mon, I have a better idea.”

He suddenly switched directions and pulled her down a different street. 

“Hey, wait a minute, where we going?” Marlene asked, pointing down towards the shops. “I wanted to stop at the arcade, too!”

But Denzel ignored her and kept moving through the busy streets. 

“Denzel!” Marlene released his hand and stood firm, placing one hand on her hip. She looked so much like Tifa for a split second, standing there defiant.

“I just wanna make one stop first, then I’ll take you to the arcade,” Denzel promised.

Marlene watched him disappear around the next street corner, then ran after him with a huff. He didn’t respond to her anymore, though. He was on a mission. The streets grew more familiar as he walked, and he occasionally peered up at a street sign at an intersection or glanced around at the buildings to get his bearings. Marlene’s protests eventually died down and after a solid ten minutes, she fell silent. 

The sidewalks gradually became less populated and the streets dirtier as they progressed. The occasional garbage can lay overturned, contents discarded openly onto the pavement, and torn fragments of newspapers littered the gutters. A few junkies were lounging in stoops and alleyways. Those that weren’t nodding out eyed the kids as they passed. Denzel put his hand in his pocket and held tight to the handle of the dagger he carried everywhere now. He’d never be caught empty handed again, and he was ready for anything. 

Marlene began to recognize where they were heading. 

“Denzel!” she hissed in a low whisper, “I don’t wanna go back there!”

“It will be quick. I just wanna...get something,” Denzel assured her, but she grabbed his free hand tightly as they rounded the corner. 

At the end of the next block the bar appeared like an old friend. Denzel’s former home. Not that much time had passed, but it was in a complete state of disrepair, similar to the buildings on either side with broken glass and storefronts boarded up, like maybe the landlord had just given up and left it all to the eventual decay that had swallowed the rest of the block. The neon sign in the window was of course dim and there were no cars parked out front. 

“Denzel, I wanna go. I wanna leave!” She pressed his arm frantically, but Denzel shrugged her away and dug a key from his pocket. “You...you have a key?” she asked, though it was a silly question. Denzel gave her a look that said so. 

“Of course I do. I used to live here.”

He pushed forward and struggled for a moment with the lock before feeling the key hit the tumbler correctly, as usual. It hadn’t changed a bit. With a satisfied smile, he pushed the door open a bit and slid inside. Marlene whined for a second then decided she was better off with him and followed. 

The bar was completely dark and freezing. Dust floated in the air visible in the shaft of light that spilled in from the outside. Denzel was prepared for this, however, and retrieved his flashlight from his backpack. Snapping it on, he gazed around at the once familiar surroundings. The dark wood tables and chairs, the dart board, the pinball machine that Marlene had loved so much. The sleek bar with the mirror behind it. The bottles of booze were all gone, of course. Denzel guessed someone had broken in through a window upstairs at some point or maybe the landlord figured this was his version of accepting rental payments. A layer of dust covered everything, and Denzel shivered but not from the cold. The place looked positively haunted. Marlene would be scared, he reasoned, and glanced back at her. 

She stood next to him, clutching her arms around her stomach, and looked around with wide eyes. 

“I...I don’t like this…” she paused, then the fear in her voice escalated, “We shouldn’t be here, Denzel. This was a bad idea!”

“Relax. You’ve been here before. It’s the same place, there’s nothing to fear.” But he was starting to feel the prickling sensation of fear growing in his chest, too. Stop, he told his thoughts, be brave. Brave. We’re here for a reason. He exhaled and moved forward. 

“Yeah I was here when Tifa was here. And Cloud. Not like this. This is…” She jumped at a creak from the far corner. “What was that?!”

A rat scurried down from one of the tables as Denzel spun his light around to catch the source of the noise. It sniffed the air then casually strode back into the darkness. Denzel let out a breath again. 

“C’mon, I’m going upstairs,” he told her and felt her grab his arm, but she said nothing else. 

As he approached the stairs towards the back, he couldn’t help but gaze over at the sink behind the bar. This was the other place his head was trapped. The second place his dreams always brought him. Right here, months ago, watching Cloud wash his hands. He’d held his hands over the sink, rinsing blood away, then he’d looked over at Denzel with an expression that Denzel had never seen before. It was pain, but not the sort from when you scrape your knees or twist your ankle. It was like he’d lost something vital and he knew he’d never get it back. Like he already knew how drastically everything was about to change. 

And it had. Here is where Denzel heard that Tifa wasn’t coming home. Standing right...here. 

“Denzel…?” Marlene’s voice was small but firm and searching. “We should go now.”

Denzel shook his head, clearing away the awful memory and pulled his flashlight and his eyes away from the empty sink. “No, I wanna get something upstairs. It will only take a minute.”

Ascending to the second floor brought back all sorts of scents and sounds of the past. He could practically hear the clink of glasses downstairs, smell the liquor soaking into the wooden floor, hear Tifa laughing or yelling depending on what type of night it was, and maybe he could close his eyes and be back there with her. Maybe he could open them again and find that the last few months had been nothing but a bad dream. Maybe he’d go downstairs and see Cloud washing dishes instead of bloody hands. Maybe. 

What a stupid fantasy, he chided himself. Childish. Pull it together. There was no place in this world for meaningless thoughts such as that. 

The carpeted floors of the second level were dirt-stained and hard. The entire place had been overturned, not at all like the last time he’d been there with Cloud. Then he noticed the broken window in the office, the one overlooking the fire escape. Someone had vandalized the place. Likely junkies looking for cash, Denzel reasoned. The stream of light from his flashlight moved around the room, falling on the various pieces of furniture emerging from the darkness like spooks. 

He swallowed his fear and stepped forward over bits of glass and paper. Marlene was tight on him like glue, clutching his arm like a raft in a storm, and she was shivering. 

Opposite from the office was his old bedroom. 

“I wish Cloud were here... “ Marlene was barely audible, just a tiny squeak. 

“No, you don’t. And there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just an empty building,” Denzel said, trying his best to remain strong despite the curling coldness in his stomach. 

Keeping his breath steady and even, he pushed open the door to his old bedroom and shone the light around. The bed was a wreck and the drawers of the dresser had all been removed. The closet was open and everything was bare. But maybe, just maybe, they hadn’t taken everything, whoever they were. 

He tip-toed into the room and spotted the nightstand on its side next to the bed. Quickly, Denzel knelt next to it and rifled through its content with Marlene practically on top of him still, though now she was emitting a low sad whine faintly. 

There! Denzel saw it. The photo. 

Victorious, he pulled the photo of Tifa and him free from the disorganized contents. They were both smiling, outside in front of the bar. Cloud stood apart in the frame, to one side with his arms crossed. Who had taken this photo? He couldn’t remember exactly. 

“That’s it?” Marlene said over his shoulder, “You dragged me here to get some stupid picture?”

“I don’t have any photos of us together. I wanted to come back and get this one.” He folded the picture and put it in his pocket with a sigh of relief. Now he had something more reliable than memories to see her face from that day. 

“Denzel, we have pictures of her already. I can’t believe you made me come with you here.”

“Yeah, well, I like this one.”

Marlene curled her mouth up like she was about to hurl a stream of terrified words at him, but they were both interrupted by a sudden sound downstairs.

BANG! 

Loud. Like a door slamming shut in a hurry. Denzel secretly ran through his motions when he’d unlocked the door. Had he really not remembered to lock up behind him? How could he be so stupid!

A scurrying noise was downstairs. A shuffling. 

“D-D-Denzel…!” Marlene whispered and her hand was so tight in his he thought for sure she would bruise him.

The clutter of noise became clearer, drawing closer. Like something crawling up the stairs.

With his free hand he withdrew the dagger and flipped the blade open. Marlene gasped. “You carry that…?” But there was no time to explain to her. 

He moved her behind him and held the dagger hard in his fist, suddenly feeling his heart beat so loud in his ears and chest. 

“Don’t worry, Marlene,” he whispered back to her, “Just stay behind me.”

Denzel switched off his flashlight, then slowly took a step forward, dagger in hand. Marlene’s eyes had been desperately begging him for something, to stay at her side perhaps, but his attention was focused on the sounds coming from the stairwell. 

A slow creaking moved up each step, accompanied by heavy gasps. But the sounds didn’t get very far. Suddenly, another loud bang came from downstairs. The door again slammed shut, and the noises on the stairs halted. Denzel froze, one hand in the air, motioning to Marlene to stay back. Carefully, he peeked out into the hallway, but from his bedroom he could only see the top step around the corner. There was a faint light emanating from the staircase. Someone else’s flashlight.

“I know you’re in here!” A new voice shouted from below and Denzel jumped. Marlene threw her hands over her mouth. 

“You can’t hide from me!” the voice continued, and the distinct sounds of tables being overturned, glass smashing aside, a general loud ruckus emanated from below. 

The noises on the staircase shifted slightly, like weight settling. 

“How far did you think you would get? I mean, really?” the man’s voice was growing closer. He was approaching the back of the bar, surely. Denzel’s heart pounded hard and he wished his hand would just stop shaking. 

“Ah, there you are,” the voice was right on the stairs now, and a strangled scream came from someone else. The source of the first intruder. 

“No! You...you can’t!” a second, closer, more desperate voice piped up. 

“I can.” Slow steps approached. “I will.”

“T-t-tell the boss,” the quieter voice stuttered, “Tell the boss it was a mistake and-”

“No, that’s not how this works. You fucked up. You got greedy. Now he’s ordered your termination. It’s that simple.”

A loud scuffle on the stairs, a smack, a yell. 

“You should be happy,” the loud man continued with a strained grunt, “that he doesn’t care enough to kill you himself. Otherwise, I’d be dragging you back to Junon and then you’d really know how badly you fucked up. You’ve heard the stories, I’m sure.”

Denzel winced as the quieter man cried out along with a sudden crunch like broken bones. 

“You’re real damn lucky,” he emphasized again and the tension in his voice was clear. 

Something brushed past Denzel’s leg, a soft flurry against his skin and his spine reacted before his brain could. With a sharp inhale, he could barely suppress a tiny cry and stumbled back. A snap of wood under his boot sounded awfully loud, and the scuffle in the stairwell stop. 

“We aren’t alone, it seems,” the loud man said. 

Brave, Denzel repeated to himself. Please be brave. He exhaled then held the dagger tighter. He had to do something. At least to protect Marlene. He had to show her he was tough, otherwise what good is him telling her to be when she wakes up in the middle of the night with bad dreams?

Denzel stepped forward into plain view at the top of the stairs and switched back on his flashlight. 

“Get out,” Denzel said to the world, dagger in hand. 

Halfway up the moldy stairs, two men were perched staring up in the circle of new light with surprise. Both of them had the shine of drugs in their eyes, and one held the other by his collar, the clear victor. The loud voice. The other was curled beneath defensively, blood leaking from his nose. The quiet voice. 

Denzel swallowed hard and repeated himself, “Get out. Now.”

This elicited a sharp laugh from Loud Voice. “Oh yeah? What, is this you’re uh…shack? This dump?”

“This is my home,” Denzel said, trying with all his might not to let his voice waver. Don’t show them you’re afraid, he begged his body. 

A stream of laughter erupted from both but Loud Voice smacked the other man roughly. 

“I don’t think so, kid. Now just run along. This doesn’t concern you.”

But Denzel stood firm. “Get out, I said. Take your...friend and go.”

The man’s laughter stopped and his expression grew dark. In a flicker of movement, a short sword appeared in his hand. The quiet man took advantage of the distraction Denzel was providing and kicked upward, hitting his foe clean in the chest. The other stumbled backwards a step or two but immediately caught his footing and turned all of his attention to the original threat. In a single calculated swipe, the blade cut through the quiet man, stabbing directly through his chest. Denzel jumped. Blood gushed out from the wound as Loud Voice removed his sword and focused his eyes back onto Denzel.

Instantly, all that supposed bravery melted away. 

“You know, that could’ve been a real fun time I had cut short by you,” the killer said harshly to the boy, “And now you’re going to pay for that…”

Denzel’s feet were frozen to the spot, though, as if nailed clean to the floor. The flashlight began shaking and in the beam the Loud Voice approached, climbing the stairs slowly, eyes locked on Denzel. The sword in his hand dripped blood across the old carpet. 

Then something flew through the air. A chunk of broken wood hit the guy directly in the head. Hard. Denzel heard Marlene step right next to him. The intruder’s free hand covered the spot on his head where the object had struck, a bruise already welling up, then his eyes flashed in absolute anger up at Denzel. A cold look of pure intent. This man meant to kill him. But even still Denzel was frozen. 

“Go away!” Marlene’s voice cut sharp through the air. “Go away right now!”

The man’s expression broke into a murderous smile and he laughed again but this time it sounded more cruel. “Kids…” He rolled his eyes and shouted upstairs, “Anymore goddamn kids up there wanna come on out?”

Marlene crossed her arms over her chest and glared. 

“You fuckin’ kids should’ve stayed hidden up there! Now I’m gonna kill you both.” 

“It’s my home,” Marlene echoed Denzel’s words, “And I’m telling Cloud that you broke in!”

But the man’s face froze and his smile instantly faded. “...What did you just say?”

Marlene didn’t falter. “I said I’m telling Cloud!”

“You...uh, you shouldn’t say things like that, kid.” His eyes darted frantically between the two children. “You don’t know that name.”

“Cloud Strife,” Denzel chirped, invigorated by the sudden ammunition they somehow had, “This is his place. And he’s going to...he’s going to kill you once I tell him you were here, messing up the place.”

A smirk crossed the older man’s face now. “No, you can’t possibly know him. You’re….you’re lying.” 

Marlene suddenly grabbed the flashlight then reached over and pulled the photo from Denzel’s pocket. “This guy!” she shouted, shining the light and pointing at Cloud standing there.

The man took one look and instantly backed away. He sheathed the bloody short sword and nodded at both kids quickly with apology. “I...I didn’t know the boss had kids…”

“We’re not his kids,” Marlene snapped, full of vigor. Then she shoved the light and photo back into Denzel’s hands. “We’re his friends!”

But the man was no longer listening and had completely fallen back with a look of fear on his face. He glanced down at the body of the dead quiet guy on the stairs, and for just a moment he paused, as if considering something. Then he said nothing more and vanished into the darkness of the first floor. Denzel heard his footsteps rushing over to the door below, then another slam. 

The guy had run out.

“Shit, Marlene,” Denzel breathed out at last, “I think you just saved our lives.”

Marlene stood in a daze, though. “Why was he so afraid of Cloud?”

Denzel had an idea why, though he wasn’t about to tell Marlene. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” he concluded, once more squeezing her hand in his. 

“What did he mean when he said Cloud was his boss? Why would Cloud be his boss?” Marlene asked, standing absolutely still at the top of the stairs. 

“Forget about it, Marlene. C’mon, let’s go now,” Denzel implored, “...please.”

Together they stepped carefully down the stairs. Denzel tried to avert his eyes from the dead body as they went past while Marlene stared fixedly at it, as though intrigued. They didn’t speak again until they were outside of the bar. Denzel locked it shut behind him, though he knew it was a senseless motion. He’d never come back here. 

The sun was falling lower in the sky, and a light flurry of snowflakes drifted through the air. Denzel shivered, but not from the cold. Wordlessly, he took Marlene’s hand tightly again and they began walking towards the shopping district, back exactly the way they’d came. 

There was no need to say anything. Both children were lost in thought at the very real danger they’d both survived. On their own. Without any grown-ups. 

At length, they approached the movie theater. Denzel glanced up at the showtimes, but his mind was nowhere near thoughts of entertainment. It was getting late in the day and they’d need to meet with Elmyra in a little over an hour, but the sanctity of being near so many people crowded outside the theater comforted him. He glanced over at Marlene, and she was staring up at a movie poster of that one she’d mentioned earlier. The action movie she’d wanted to see. 

“Don’t tell Elmyra,” Denzel said at last. 

Marlene gave him an initial look that said she had every intention of doing so, but then she paused and her expression softened into a subtle nod of agreement.

“Good,” Denzel exhaled. Elmyra would kill him if she knew where they’d gone and how much trouble they’d almost been in.

They remained in front of the theater together, holding hands in silence for several long moments. 

Finally, Marlene looked over at Denzel. 

“Was I brave?”

Her question startled him. Had she not seen how close they’d come to being in serious trouble? How close they’d come to death? But he relaxed and tried his best smile. 

“Yeah, Marlene,” he assured her, “You were great. Just like an action hero.”

But now he had even more questions running around his head, about Cloud. Marlene apparently had them, too. 

“Do you think Cloud’s in trouble?” she asked. 

Denzel shrugged. “I don’t know, but it sure seems that way.”

“We should help him,” Marlene concluded. 

Denzel didn’t agree. 

“He’d help us, Denzel, if we were in trouble,” she stressed. 

Denzel pointed up at the movie poster and tried to change the subject. “I think we can still catch this show if we hurry.” Then he picked the gil from his pocket and counted it out. 

“Well, I’m going to figure out what happened to him,” Marlene stated boldly, ignoring Denzel’s feeble attempt at switching the topic, “I’m going to find him and help him. And you can help me if you’d like.”

A long sigh came from Denzel and he simply stepped up to the counter and bought two tickets. Marlene was still so innocent, Denzel realized. She’d been kept blissfully isolated from everything, and Denzel knew he’d keep trying to protect her. He had to. He was the only one who could, especially from the truth. 

“Sure, Marlene.” Denzel smiled at her. “We stick together.”


	3. Junon Beach Day

"So, did you have a good time at the movies?" Elmyra was asking on the bus ride home.

Denzel stared out the window, watching the city structures of Edge growing smaller on the horizon, and didn't hear Elmyra until Marlene elbowed him in the side.

"Oh," Denzel snapped his attention back to the older woman, "Yeah, it was good. How was the appointment?"

Elmyra frowned and leaned back slightly. "Well, I may need to come into the city more frequently for the next few weeks. Just a few additional check-ups. Nothing to worry about. But I may need to go during the week, which means I won't be home by the time you kids get home from school on those days."

Denzel blinked. Elmyra must be getting more sick if she'd needed to go back to the doctor again so soon. He glanced over at Marlene and it seemed she had caught this gist as well as she was frowning too.

"So," Elmyra continued quickly, "Marlene, your birthday is coming up. Barret should be coming in end of this week. Have you thought about what you wanna do? Go to the Gold Saucer again?"

"Actually," Marlene pursed her lips in thought, "I was thinking of Junon." Denzel stared over at her in disbelief.

Elmyra frowned. "Oh no, sweetie, that place isn't… a good place for children."

"I wanna go to the beach," Marlene explained, "Can't go to Costa del Sol anymore."

She wasn't wrong. The seaside resort town had been destroyed last month in the hurricane, and Junon had become the destination for many misplaced survivors, further lending to its reputation as a haven for those who have lost everything.

Elmyra paused in thought, then smiled sweetly at Marlene. "I'll talk to Barret. It's up to him." And that was the end of the conversation. Elmyra retrieved a book from her purse along with several pamphlets and began perusing through them.

Denzel and Marlene didn't say any more, and the bus rumbled forward across the barren plains.

* * *

"You're crazy, Marlene." Denzel was pacing across the rug in the living room. "There is no way Barret will take us to Junon."

The younger girl put one hand on her hip and gazed over at Denzel. They were alone at home, waiting for Barret to arrive from Corel. His flight was scheduled for that evening and it was just starting to get dark outside. Elmyra had gone out shopping in town and would likely be back soon.

"That guy in the bar said Junon. He said his boss was in Junon, Denzel! And then he said his boss was -"

"Stop, Marlene."

Marlene huffed. "But you said the last time you saw Cloud was up north. You said he disappeared one afternoon and now we actually have a chance to find him and figure out what happened! Don't you wanna know?"

Denzel became keenly aware of the lie he'd told her and struggled to not show any evidence that she didn't have all the facts. Yuffie had been the only person he'd really told, sputtering like a baby to her on the airship that day. Denzel lifted his hands casually behind his head and looked over at Marlene, rubbing the scar on his forearm subconsciously. "Yeah, but I mean, if he wanted to see us he would. He knows where we live. I just don't think he wants to see us…"

"Or maybe," Marlene prompted, "he's in trouble and can't see us even though he wants to! Tifa usually helps him and now Tifa's gone so he needs someone else to help him."

"...I don't think so, Marlene. Can you just drop this?"

"What are you so scared of, Denzel? You've been acting weird ever since we got back from Edge."

But all of that would have to wait because a key was rattling in the door, and both children looked over just as Barret walked in, a big smile on his face.

"Hey baby girl!" Bright light spilled in from the doorway as Barret put down his bag and spread his arms for a hug. Marlene rushed over and embraced him.

"Hey Barret." Denzel waved.

"Hey little man." Barret towered over him and tousled the kid's hair with one hand, then he looked back at Marlene. "So where we going for your birthday? I heard the Gold Saucer got some new games in."

Marlene's excitement faded slightly. "Oh, but I'd told Elmyra that I wanted to go to Junon this year."

Barret cleared his throat. "Yeah...yeah she told me that. But look, I thought we could go watch some chocobo races, ride the gondola, play some games over at the Saucer instead. You like that snowboardin', right?"

Now Marlene's smile completely collapsed and she turned away. Barret looked helplessly over at Denzel, realizing what he'd accidentally brought up. The last time Marlene had been to the Gold Saucer was for her birthday two years ago with Cloud and Tifa. The adults had seemed to enjoy the games more than the kids, and the pair had run around the arcade for hours, mostly taking turns on the snowboarding game which was Tifa's favorite. It was the last birthday of hers he'd missed, and he'd promised never to miss another. Especially after...

"Marlene…" Barret knelt next to her, "I'm sorry. I forgot the last time you been there…" but he didn't want to bring it up directly. It was too fresh for him, too. Tifa's death still hurt in his chest, like a slow poison circulating. "Okay, so I guess if you wanna do Junon this year, then thas what we do. The beach, huh?"

Marlene was still facing away, but she spoke up, "Yeah. Just for the afternoon."

Barret stood and sighed. "Okay, baby girl." Then he nodded at Denzel, "You comin' too, big guy?"

Denzel didn't want to, truthfully, but the thought of Marlene going to Junon without him frightened him even more than somehow running into Cloud directly in the ocean city. So Denzel nodded, as if there was nothing more in the world he'd like to do.

"Great." Barret tried to grin. "We go in the mornin' then."

* * *

Junon was a massive city bleeding over the edge of the ocean and sprawling out along the beaches to the north and south. During the last few years, construction had stretched back into the surrounding plains and now the city was rivaling Edge in population. All military activity was long decommissioned, but the large sleek tiers remained, crowded now with wealthy tourists, shops, hotels, and a few luxury condos overlooking the ocean.

Denzel gazed up at the towering clusters of buildings in the shopping district. The last time he'd been in the city had been with Cloud, but they'd gone back into the slums, and Cloud had brought them into a decrepit building, into an overturned apartment, had grabbed a handful of personal items without saying a word and then immediately brought them to the ferry where they departed. Denzel had never actually been to the main districts along any of the tiers, and the sight of it was overwhelming at first.

Barret stood protectively with Marlene, holding her hand. "Hm, this place changed a lot since I last been here…" he remarked, "But I think I still see some signs for the beach."

Marlene released Barret's hand and walked behind him next to Denzel as they ventured forward through the streets.

"Denzel…" Marlene whispered, "We've got to start looking."

"This city is huge," Denzel whispered back, "There's no way we'll find anyone here. Just enjoy your birthday and forget about him already."

Marlene's expression said that there was no way she'd let it go. It was almost sad how obsessed she'd become with Cloud after Tifa's death, as if the blonde was her only link back to Tifa, and her and Tifa had been very close all the time Denzel had known her. He couldn't imagine Marlene without Tifa standing somewhere nearby, except now of course she was gone, and Denzel was forever trapped in that moment standing in the bar without her. It was Cloud's fault. All of it. Denzel curled his hand into a fist, feeling the scar along his palm. And now Marlene was scrambling to hold onto any last fragment of Tifa that existed, just to have something to hold onto. Just to grasp any piece left.

"There we go. I see the beaches now," Barret stated triumphantly, pointing at a break in the buildings with a constructed metal overhang leading downward to the lower tier.

The three approached the edge and the pristine ocean far below greeted them. White beaches were dotted with colorful umbrellas and beach towels of sunbathers.

"Man, can't beat that view," Barret remarked, "Say what you will 'bout this city, they still got somethin' ain't nobody else got. And you got a good weekend for weather, Marlene. I heard this place usually just rainstorms. But you got a beautiful day here, girl."

Denzel couldn't agree more. The sky was a perfect blue vault above the endless ocean.

Ahead of them, a sudden disturbance broke out. Two men were fighting over something, but Denzel couldn't see exactly what. Barret instantly steered the kids away, grabbing Marlene's hand. Through the crowds, Denzel glanced back and saw something fall to the floor as the men scuffled from one of their pockets. A cylinder. He stopped cold because he knew exactly what it was. A recognizable container of pills. The stuff everyone called 'mako' which was a nickname, of course, thanks to the temporary side effect — a dim luminescence in its user's eyes — and Denzel knew it was expensive. A distant itch came to life in his head. He'd used the drugs briefly in the past with his rich schoolfriend in Edge, and he'd stopped after that one terrifying night where Cloud had scared him half-to-death, but there was nobody paying any attention to the dropped object. Nobody else had seen. Denzel paused.

One man shoved the other back against the railing leading to the plummet down to the beach, punching him over and over, and a small crowd of people had halted amidst the flow of pedestrians to watch. Denzel's eyes were still locked on the cylinder. He knew how valuable it was, but still nobody else had seen it. Just grab it now, his thoughts screamed. Before anyone notices!

Darting out behind the gathering, he ducked and picked up the tiny case, pocketing it instantly. The rattle of a few pills inside meant he'd made the right choice. This was worth at least a few hundred gil. Maybe more. Marlene was suddenly next to him, and he felt Barret grab his shoulder.

"Les go before this get any worse," Barret stated, motioning towards the now bloody man holding his face together with the brilliant blue ocean far below him.

The kids fell behind Barret once more as he pushed their way to the stairs and headed down towards the lower tier. The afternoon sun shone bright and clear against the smooth massive metal sides of the iconic Junon structures as they weaved along the busy streets leading to the beaches.

"What's the plan?" Marlene whispered to Denzel.

"Plan? I'm not looking for him, Marlene!" Denzel hissed back, "And Barret won't let you out of his sight, anyways."

They reached the boardwalk and the sandy beaches ahead were practically covered with an armada of folks enjoying the rare sunny day. Barret scoped out the situation with one hand shading his eyes from the sun.

"Well, baby girl, looks like we may be a bit crowded here, but…" then his brow relaxed, "but I think I see an open spot."

Going anywhere with Barret was interesting to Denzel because people usually took one look at that menacing metal arm and got the hell out of his way. Despite his intense appearance, Barret had the warmest heart Denzel knew. Aside from Tifa, of course.

"Save our spot," Marlene suddenly piped up, "I wanna get an ice cream."

Barret eyed her carefully. "I'll come wit' you then."

"I'll just be a minute. Denzel will go with me. I don't wanna lose the spot on the beach, though. Looks like it's pretty perfect from here," Marlene reasoned back to her surrogate father. Denzel watched Barret's face soften and his eyes went to Denzel then back to Marlene.

"Okay, fine." He handed her a few gil. "Don't go wanderin' off though! Come right back to the beach. I'ma be over there, next to them people with the blue and white umbrella. You see 'em?" He pointed off into the sea of people.

"Yes, I see," Marlene replied and grabbed Denzel's hand, "Be right back!"

Barret watched the kids walk away for a minute then shook his head. She was getting older every time he saw her, and he knew she was accustomed to doing things without him but it always hurt just a little when they parted. But that was how things were. All part of being a parent. Kids eventually grow up. He wondered if Dyne were watching somehow and hoped maybe he was doing a good job with Marlene. He was just doing the best he could, really. Barret sighed and stepped up to the chair and umbrella rental to obtain the necessary accessories for their beach day.

Once out of sight of Barret, Marlene and Denzel paused on the boardwalk in the throngs of people.

"Okay, so we should split up," Marlene said at once, but Denzel immediately held his hand up.

"Marlene…"

"I'll search through the lower tier and you do the upper."

"No, Marlene."

"And when you find Cloud, just take a look and see if he's okay. Because if he's really in trouble then you should come back and get me and then we'll get Barret. But if he's okay then you should bring him back with you and then we'll all have birthday cake together tonight back in Kalm."

"Uh, Marlene….That's…"

Marlene's eyes were focused far off, though. "Yeah, you know Cloud and I both like vanilla cake so I think he'd be really happy if we were to find him today so he could have some with us. And ice cream, too, of course."

"Marlene, stop!" Denzel shouted, then he lowered his voice at once, not meaning to have yelled at her. Her eyes went wide.

"You don't wanna help me now? I thought you said family sticks together."

Denzel let out an aggravated sigh. "We do. I will. I just…"

"I'm going to search with or without you," Marlene argued, "But I think it will go faster if we both do it."

He folded his arms over his stomach. "And Barret?"

Marlene thought for a moment. "You're right. We should tell him. Why hadn't I thought of that before? He can help us now that we're here!"

"Wait, that's not -"

But Marlene was already running off, back towards the beach, and Denzel took off following. By the time he'd caught up, she was already standing near Barret out on the sands near the blue and white umbrella, and Denzel had to carefully navigate the rows of sunbathers to reach them. Barret stood holding beach towels in one hand and a folded umbrella in the other while Marlene spoke rapidly.

Barret scowled. "Hang on. You sayin' that you think Cloud is here?"

"Yes," Marlene replied, motioning with her hands towards the tier, "Yes, Denzel and I overheard these guys talking about their boss -"

"Overheard where? Who was talkin'?"

"These guys were. That's not important," she continued exasperated, "They said Cloud was their boss!"

"I think you heard somethin' wrong then. There ain't no way." Barret shook his head gravely. "Ain't no way he in Junon."

"What makes you so sure? He might need our help," Marlene chattered on persistently.

Barret let out a chuckle. "That man need all the help in the world, but not from us. Ain't nothing we can do for him."

Marlene looked thunderstruck. "What? What do you mean?"

Barret exchanged a glance with Denzel, and neither was absolutely sure of what the other knew concerning Cloud. Any further words in this conversation suddenly didn't seem like safe territory at all for those keeping secrets. Barret's eyes darkened considerably.

"You stay away from him, Marlene," Barret spoke very sternly, "If you do see him here, you tell me right away. Right away, you hear? You do not go near him."

The sudden scolding completely destroyed Marlene's previous motivation and she just stared up at Barret as though holding back a cry.

"This why you wanted to come to Junon?" Barret went on angrily, "Cuz you wanna find Cloud? If he don't wanna be found, he ain't gonna be found."

Denzel stood very still, watching Barret berate Marlene. Surely this would stop her silly fantasies now.

"And trust me, baby girl, he ain't the same guy anymore."

A stubborn tear rolled down her cheek. "Because of Tifa…?" she ventured softly.

Barret let out the rest of his anger in a sigh and knelt next to her. "No… It's not because of Tifa. Jes trust me."

"But...but he used to tell Denzel and me stories about all the places you'd been to! He used to bring home cupcakes on weekends for us! He used to take me on trips around the city when he had to run errands! He'd let me pick which flowers we'd buy for Tifa… I thought he and Tifa would get married!" Everything was spilling from Marlene like an overflowing sink. All those times they'd spent in Edge together, just a little happy family. And what was family anymore to Marlene? She didn't even know her own real mother or father. This was all she had. She looked up at Barret with wells of tears in her eyes. "I wanna see him again for my birthday!" Then she fell apart into sobs.

Barret's face could have been made of stone, he stayed so still. Marlene was a child, after all, and he shouldn't have said those things to her. Slowly, he leaned forward to pull her into a hug. She fell against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging tight while the tears kept coming. Denzel stood awkwardly to one side, holding his arms and glancing around at the stares they were getting from anyone nearby.

"Sorry I yelled at you," Barret said quietly to her, "I jes want you safe, is all. I need you safe, and you got me worried for a moment."

Marlene wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and sniffled. "I understand…"

But the three of them remained standing, in the middle of the beach, with people sprawled all around. The entire trip seemed unnecessary and strained now, and Denzel just wanted to leave.

As if reading his thoughts, Barret suddenly said, "C'mon, les get off the sand. Go get you that ice cream."

The girl smiled up at him and they held hands. Denzel felt positively out of the equation, as if they were sharing some special father-daughter moment and he was nothing but an outsider. That was what he'd always been, though. They'd all experienced so much together before he somehow managed to show up and interrupt everyone's life. Cloud's fault, too.

Back on the boardwalk, Barret and Marlene stood in line for ice cream while Denzel hung back, watching the crowds. Was it even possible that Cloud was somewhere in this city right now? Why go back to Junon, the place that Cloud had been so desperate the leave the last time Denzel had been with him? None of it made any sense.

Marlene appeared next to Denzel, holding two ice cream cones. She licked one and held the other out to Denzel. Chocolate. Denzel's favorite. He accepted it with a smile.

"Happy birthday, Marlene." He raised the cone like he'd seen adults raise their glasses. He was pretty sure it meant a sort of salute. She did likewise, melty cone in hand.

"Thanks, Denzel." A little smile.

The three spent the rest of the afternoon together on the boardwalk, evading seagulls and gawking at street performers. They stopped in the arcade, where Marlene positively destroyed Denzel in the latest shooter, and then went shopping along the upper tier. Barret seemed in higher spirits as long as Marlene kept smiling, though Denzel noticed the man casually looking over his shoulder more than a few times and flexing his metal fist.

At last the day was ending, and the sun began to set over the ocean in a beautiful wash of red and yellow. As they stood in line at the airship landing zone, waiting to board the next flight home, Barret yawned. Marlene was leaning against him sleepily, though entirely engrossed in a comic book he'd bought for her at the bookstore. It was some story about ghosts.

"Hey Denzel," Barret said, "You have a good time?"

"Yeah," Denzel replied, though he too was yawning. He pointed over at a cafe at the end of the block. "Mind if I go get a coffee? Looks like we'll be in this line for at least another twenty minutes while they switch over the flights."

"You drink coffee?" Barret asked, then quickly laughed and went on, "Guess it makes sense you drinkin' coffee. I know Tifa was practically addicted to the stuff. Sure, get whatever you want." He handed over a few gil, and Marlene didn't even look up from her comic.

Carefully, Denzel stepped back through the queue and headed down the block. The sun bathed the upper tiers in a warm, friendly glow and for a moment the city actually looked quite beautiful in a sort of dismal temporary way. Denzel counted out the gil and contemplated what he'd purchase as he stepped down the street.

The cafe windows came into view and Denzel looked up, ready to push open the glass door and enter, then he froze feeling his heart constrict and his blood plummet to his feet.

Seated at a table directly next to the windows, facing the sunset, was Cloud.


	4. Vanilla Cake

Denzel would recognize him anywhere. Even though the man was facing away, Denzel was positively sure it was Cloud. There was no way around it. The black sweater, the blonde hair, the massive sword. Denzel couldn’t believe he actually carried his sword around in town like that. Wouldn’t people be...nervous around a weapon like that? What exactly was Cloud anticipating to happen?

Denzel gulped, unable to move. Unable to breathe. 

Another patron in the cafe stood and walked towards the door after nodding politely at the waitress. The man exited and the bell above the door jingled softly, which made all of Denzel’s muscles tense for the worse, as though the blonde seated at the window would turn at the sound and see him. Turn and stand and pursue him. He’d catch him.

“Get out the way, kid,” the other cafe patron sneered, shoving past Denzel, but Denzel wasn’t listening and barely moved. He simply continued staring. 

Cloud sat casually, coffee mug on the table in front of him, just looking out at the sea. The sword and sheath was resting across the chair next to him, easily within arm’s reach. Occasionally, he glanced over to an empty table at his right. Quite a few times he did this, actually. Denzel looked around the cafe. There was nobody else there aside from the waitress now. Cloud turned slightly as the waitress approached his table with coffee pot in hand, and Denzel backed away from the window, keeping himself concealed from view. Gingerly, he peered back through the glass doors. Yes, he could see the side of Cloud’s face now as he apparently ordered more coffee. It was definitely him. 

Breath out, Denzel told himself. Go back and get Barret. He’d know what to do. 

But before he could move, another person entered the cafe. An older woman with hair tight in a bun and a sad look on her face. She didn’t approach the counter nor order anything from the waitress. She went straight to Cloud and stood next to him, speaking something but Denzel couldn’t make anything out and there was no way he was going to enter the cafe. Not before and especially not now. 

Cloud said something back to her then nodded and she sat down. The older woman was frightened, that much was obvious. She glanced around as if the walls would come down at any minute, and it seemed Cloud was asking her questions. Short questions. Cloud barely moved the entire time. At last the woman nodded and started rooting through her purse, searching for something. An envelope. Denzel watched, fascinated. She slid the envelope across the table and Cloud picked it up, then opened it and looking inside for a few seconds. Denzel couldn’t see what it was, but apparently Cloud deemed it satisfactory because he nodded again then said one last thing to the woman. She stood, and Denzel noticed her hands were shaking terribly. Seeing her approach the door, Denzel backed up and once more retreated to the storefront next door, facing away as the woman exited the cafe. 

Taking a deep breath, he once more peeked over the edge of the glass and peered in, then immediately jolted back because he saw Cloud had stood and was putting his sword onto his back. Run. Just run. Denzel could feel his body begging him to turn away and return to the safety of Barret and Marlene. To the airship. To Kalm. 

But there was something else, too. Another nagging in the back of his head. Some other part of him wanted, more than anything, to reach out to Cloud. To hug him close and feel that pain in his chest go away. To break down like Marlene had and have someone to comfort him. Cloud turned slightly towards the door and Denzel shirked back, but kept looking. He could see Cloud’s face fully now, and he looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale, more so than usual. Almost sickly. This worried Denzel suddenly. Maybe Marlene was right. Maybe he did need help. 

No, Denzel reminded himself of that day he’d run. That day when Cloud had turned on him in some strange daze and nearly sliced his arm off. There had been nothing in Cloud’s eyes when it happened. A blank stare. An empty voice. It was just a shell Denzel had seen. Something incapable of reaction, and Cloud had looked at the blood trailing from Denzel’s arms as one examines an insignificant insect struggling on the concrete underfoot. It had been terrifying. 

And now...Denzel watched as Cloud left a handful of gil next to his coffee mug and then waved to the empty table in the corner. It was clear he was about to leave. Denzel’s heart raced even faster, impossibly so. 

He frantically looked around the city block for somewhere to hide. Cloud was going to exit the cafe any instant and then he’d definitely see Denzel and then it wouldn’t be a choice anymore. He’d either be cut apart by the phantom Cloud he’d seen chasing him in his dreams or he’d be comforted by the guy who’d found him half-dead near a church years ago. Both seemed equally likely, and Denzel wasn’t about to take any chances. 

Quickly, he shoved himself in the small alley between the cafe and its neighboring storefront. A puddle of garbage water greeted his feet with a slosh and Denzel stood perfectly still, hoping the shadows were concealing him. The bell on the door jingled and Cloud emerged. He stepped directly into Denzel’s view, looking either way down the street. Then he adjusted the weight on his back and walked down the street, opposite the direction of where Barret and Marlene were undoubtedly still waiting. 

A distinct moment became clear to Denzel, and he suddenly felt the urgency of time running out as Cloud disappeared around the next block. The airship landing zone was pulling at Denzel, a safe area where he could just run back to Barret and pretend he’d never seen Cloud at all. But he stared hard at the corner where Cloud had disappeared. And what if Marlene was right? What if something awful had happened to Cloud? 

Run. Just run away. Denzel could hear the voice screaming in his head. It sounded like Tifa somehow, but Denzel knew that was just his own fears plastering itself onto memories of other people in his head. Tifa would never ask him to run from Cloud. Even when Cloud had turned on him in the blurry haze and Denzel had run until his lungs seized, there was always a small piece of Denzel that wanted badly to believe that Cloud was just lost in grief. Like all of them had been. Still were. Denzel knew that death made people do and say crazy things.

The moment was disappearing quickly. But what were the chances he’d run into Cloud like this anyways? When was the next time he’d even be back in Junon? Denzel didn’t want to lose this opportunity, and if Marlene was right, then…

Making up his mind, Denzel left the alleyway and bolted down the street. Cautiously turning the city block, he scanned the crowds. It didn’t take long to spot Cloud again. The crowds actually fanned out slightly around him as he moved, as though everyone wanted to ensure he made his way to whatever destination entirely unimpeded. Denzel followed. 

A safe distance was essential, so Denzel kept at least an entire city block between them as he tailed Cloud along the upper tier. The blonde moved quickly, fluidly, through the streets and Denzel struggled to keep up a few times but always managed to get him back in his sights. There were several moments when Cloud would look back and Denzel was sure, so damn sure, that he’d been spotted, but then Cloud would casually continue as though nothing were out of place. 

They descended to the lower tier, moving away from the crowded tourist areas, away from the shopping district and the hotels and the fancy restaurants. The streets were thinning and Denzel began to doubt his plan. Just as he was about to give in to his nervousness and fall back to the safety of Barret and Marlene at the landing zone, Cloud stopped. Right in front of some abandoned building, an old residential tenement from the looks of it. A handful of junkies were leisurely hanging on the stoop, but they immediately scattered as Cloud approached, falling back instead to the side of the building next door. Denzel froze and crouched behind a few garbage cans along the sidewalk. 

Cloud entered the building without any hesitation. Denzel held back, unsure if he should follow. The junkies nearby were shooting up in broad daylight and the other random passer-bys in the street didn’t even give it a second glance. This was definitely not a good part of town. Denzel cursed himself for being so stupid, but now that he had gotten this far, he didn’t want to just stand around outside like this. He took a deep breath and stood, expecting somehow that he’d get caught by someone, anyone, just pointing and exclaiming loudly his presence. But that didn’t happen, of course. Nobody paid him any attention at all. 

He entered the building, finding the door without a handle even. The entire place looked abandoned and inside was nothing but scraps of wood and paper, piles of discarded various bits of furniture, broken bottles, even torn fragments of clothing. It was a mess, and judging by the black stains on the walls, had at one point been on fire somewhere in its former life. What a shame. The remnants of human life, like this. Denzel focused ahead. Slivers of light cut in through the boards in the windows and he could see clearly that there was a basement. An open door swung on its hinges directly down the hallway, inviting down into darkness. This must’ve been where Cloud had gone because the stairs and all other doors appeared undisturbed under a thick layer of dust and ash. 

An alarm went off in his head, distant but persisting. A prelude to fear. Do not go into that basement. 

Then he heard a scream. A man’s voice yelling out in pain. And Denzel’s heart jumped. Was that…? He stepped forward slightly and the screaming came again, loud and terrifying, like someone having their arm wrenched off. Or worse. Cold fear pinned his muscles tight, but Denzel focused and breathed out. There was no way he could go down there, but another curiosity growing under his skin. He wanted to… well, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. It was a vague desire to see what could cause someone to scream like that. A little distant itch of pure intrigue. 

Timidly, he approached the open door gaping into darkness. A distant light from below became obvious as he neared it. The opening went straight down wooden stairs into a concrete lower level, but the bottom was masked from sight by a sharp corner. He could hear voices. He could hear Cloud’s voice! Yes, it was definitely him talking, but he was speaking low, almost like he were relaying a secret. 

Don’t do it, Denzel. He could practically hear Marlene telling him this. You’ll get in trouble!

But now Denzel had to know. There was no way around it. There was too much going on right here, in front of him, just out of reach. He needed to know… 

One foot stepped down, then the other, and the other. Denzel was halfway down the stairs suddenly and pressed his back to the corner just before the stairs opened up into the basement below. 

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Cloud was speaking, “and I wish I didn’t need to get involved here.”

Denzel peeked barely around the corner, just a tiny sliver of a glimpse, and immediately fell back again. Cloud stood with his sword in one hand, blood dripping from its edge. There was a man on the floor in front of him, curled in pain, and two other men stood on either side of Cloud. One was playfully twirling a dagger in one hand and looked right over just as Denzel had peeked out. Denzel held his breath but apparently he hadn’t been noticed before there was no sudden movement, no shouts of exposure. 

“I rarely get directly involved like this, you see,” Cloud continued, “But you’ve purposefully evaded a contract that you were assigned. Your actions nearly exposed our supplier in Wutai and you killed a fellow associate.”

Denzel’s mind raced, and he couldn’t make sense of any of it. 

“You were one of my best, and I’m sorry it had to end this way,” Cloud went on calmly despite the moans of pain from the man lying at his feet. “You understand it’s like this for a reason, right? If I didn’t kill you then there’d be no order. There’d be no reason for anyone to follow any rules. We can’t have that.”

The sound of footsteps. Cloud was perhaps pacing now. 

“Can’t be entirely without merit. We need to maintain structure. All of us do.” 

“F-f-fuck, man!” a desperate sad voice rang out. “I...I just thought -”

“You thought you could skimp out on a contract, collect the cash, then disappear into Wutai. And then you talked about our supplier to the wrong people and then, even after all of that other shit, you murdered the associate who went looking for you!” Cloud said it like this was the stupidest series of event he’d ever heard. 

The man on the floor sputtered incoherently. 

“So you see why things have to end this way,” Cloud went on, back to his calm even tone. 

A sharp noise suddenly cut through the air and after a final gurgling scream, the man fell silent. Denzel shook with fear but remained glued against the wall, regretting desperately every decision he’d ever made in his life that led to this point, standing here, listening to someone die. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed he was not making a single noise.

Cloud sighed. “What a waste.”

“A waste of your time, sir. I understand,” another man spoke now. 

“Forget it,” Cloud said, “Just tell Wutai it’s been handled.”

“Yes, sir.”

Denzel realized he’d need to move soon and fast. Cloud would no doubt be coming back upstairs, and Denzel had utterly no plan whatsoever. He’d never even expected to hear something this horrible and his stomach was already churning in his belly, ready to expel its contents all over the damn stairs. Denzel forced his shaking legs to move, carefully — quietly! — up the stairs, one creak at a time. At any moment he was expecting Cloud to grab his backpack, but somehow the three men remained in the basement. Denzel reached the top of the stairs and ran out of the building, eagerly filling his lungs with outside air. And what now? Denzel glanced back at the abandoned building. Cloud was definitely not in trouble, and he knew the phantom Cloud in his nightmares was very real. The cold vacant expression that had cut towards him that one afternoon was no temporary state. It was the man himself. He’d fallen into something far worse than Denzel could’ve imagined. 

He stumbled backwards and hid behind a truck parked in the street. Cloud soon exited the building, alone, sword sheathed, though there was a light spatter of blood on his right arm. Then he walked down the street, as if nothing at all had just transpired, and Denzel was fixated on his form as he disappeared along the next avenue. Trying now to build up the courage to follow him and perhaps, just maybe, confront him or more likely crawl into his arms crying and wishing that none of this were real, Denzel stood up and stepped away from the parked truck. 

Immediately, hands grabbed him from behind and roughly threw him back against the hood of the vehicle. Denzel flailed and held his arms up quick in defense. It was one of the guys from the basement that had been with Cloud, the one twirling the daggers. He had short black hair and a lanky body, and his eyes shone dimly with drugs.

“Hey, I saw you, kid,” the man said and cocked his head to one side, “Yeah, you were watching us just now. You were in that building right there.” He pointed back at the decrepit place behind them. 

Denzel shook his head fast. “N-n-no way! I was just walkin’ by!”

The man pulled a dagger from one of the sheathes at his belt and held it tight against Denzel’s neck. “Whatchu doing walking by this street at this hour, then? I think you were spying on something. Who’s paying you, kid?! You better start talking right now!”

Denzel forgot all about the dagger in his own backpack, forgot all about Marlene and Barret and Cloud, even. His brain was frantically trying to reason any way out of this predicament, but the blade was against his throat and the sharp edge was biting through any sane thoughts and Denzel could say nothing. He could do nothing. 

“Not talking, huh?” The man said, “Bad choice, kid. I think someone hired you to do some spying and I intend to find out exactly who.”

The man put his other hand in his pocket and Denzel felt his stomach curl into a knot, his heart pumping insanely fast. This must be what a heart attack feels like, he decided. But the other man withdrew only a cellphone. Denzel audible exhaled in relief. The dagger was still against his throat though. 

With one hand, the man dialed and put the phone up to his ear. 

“Hey boss,” he said in a friendly tone. “I found someone snooping around the building. I think I saw him checking us out in the basement just now. Spying on us.”

Oh fuck. He’s talking to Cloud. Denzel knew it. There was no way out of this now. Cloud would see him and there’d be no choice but to...to...do what, exactly? Denzel had no idea. Surely Cloud wouldn’t hurt him, but he’d already hurt him once before so at this point nothing was entirely off the table. 

“He’s, like a kid,” the man replied over the phone, “He’s, I don’t know, thirteen or something. But he won’t talk. Won’t say who sent him. Want me to just kill him or you wanna interrogate?”

Then the man’s face hardened, as though he were being told something he didn’t want to hear. 

“But he’s-”

Another silence as he listened, then his eyes narrowed on Denzel. 

“Yeah, okay, boss. I understand. No problem.” He hung up and frowned. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, kid.”

Suddenly, Denzel saw a shadow emerge behind the man, a tall foreboding figure. A recognizable silhouette...

“No,” a familiar voice spoke roughly, “It’s your lucky day, punk.”

The man with the dagger turned, but had zero time to react as a metal fist reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Barret threw the man a solid ten paces away and then protectively stood in front of Denzel. 

“Get the fuck outta here, before I reconsider not ending your miserable life,” Barret spat down at the guy. The other just smiled and stood, then raised his hands as though in mock surrender and retreated down the block. 

Marlene stepped forward and hugged Denzel hard. “Why did you run off? What are you doing over in this part of town? We were so worried!”

“Yeah,” Barret nodded and gave Denzel a reproachful look, “You seriously lucky we jes happen to look down here for you. You should never run off like that. ‘Specially not in a city like this.”

But the boy was still catching his breath and couldn’t reply. Marlene finally released him from the hug and gazed into his eyes. “What were you doing here? That guy was gonna kill you! Was he trying to rob you? Why’d you disappear on us?”

Still Denzel said nothing. 

“What you expect, Marlene,” Barret huffed, “He learn this sorta shit from Cloud. Jes run off and have everyone worried.”

This burned Denzel as he wanted never to be compared to Cloud. Not like that. He glared up at Barret. 

“Okay, little man,” Barret continued, unperturbed, “Les get you both home. I’m jes glad ain’t nothing bad happened to you.”

“Vanilla cake.” Denzel spoke the two words softly. 

“...What?” Barret looked down at him. 

Denzel nodded at them both. “Let’s just go home and have that vanilla cake. For Marlene’s birthday.” He tried to smile, but it dissolved quickly as he felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Barret knelt and hugged him.


	5. The Attic

“You saw him?!” Marlene was practically screaming with excitement, “And you didn’t tell me until now?!”

They were seated together on the top bunk in their bedroom in Kalm after bedtime. Marlene’s birthday was over, but the horrors of the day were fresh with Denzel and he couldn’t sleep again. Finally, he had decided to tell Marlene in a hushed voice about his awful misadventure that afternoon. Leaving out a few gory details, of course.

“Shh, lower your voice!” Denzel insisted, “Elmyra will hear!”

Marlene squealed then clasped both hands over her mouth in near comical fashion for just a second before going on in a much quieter voice, “What did he say to you? Did you tell him to come home? Did you tell him I miss him?”

Denzel shook his head. “No, Marlene, he was really different. I didn’t let him see me.”

“You _hid_ from him?” Marlene looked at Denzel like he was crazy. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, like I said, he’s different now. I don’t know what happened to him… but he looked sick, too.”

“Sick?” Marlene frowned, then looked down at her hands. “Like, how Elmyra is sick?”

Denzel honestly had no idea so he just shrugged. 

“He’s sick because of Tifa!” Marlene said suddenly, “It makes sense. She was always taking care of him and now he’s alone so he’s probably not taking care of himself.”

Denzel remained silent. 

“Denzel,” she poked him in the side, “That’s why he’s different! Think about it, none of us know what happened to Tifa. You said he wouldn’t even tell you. And now he’s sick somehow. Maybe Tifa was sick, too, and Cloud has whatever she had and so he doesn’t want anyone near because it’s contagious!”

Denzel looked at her skeptically. “Nooo, I don’t think so.”

“Well, why wouldn’t he tell anyone how Tifa died…?” Marlene trailed off then suddenly snapped her fingers, as if coming to a revelation, “Unless Cloud doesn’t know how she died!”

“Of course he knows. He told me he was with her when she died.”

“Sure, but maybe he doesn’t know who hurt her!”

“No,” Denzel shook his head again, “He told me he killed the person who hurt her.”

Marlene leaned back, defeated. “There must be some reason that he would leave us…” she declared dismally. 

“...Maybe he just decided he’d rather be doing something else than be stuck with a bunch of kids and no Tifa,” Denzel said softly. 

The girl let out a tiny moan. “Maybe we remind him of Tifa.”

Both fell silent and the boy stared out the window at the stars dotting the night sky. Another clear evening. 

“Well, I don’t wanna give up,” Marlene declared, “I wanna help him, still. I bet if I saw him, I’d ask him to come home and he would.”

“I doubt that…” Denzel said under his breath. 

She threw a pillow over at him. “Okay, you know what? You need to tell me exactly what you know. You’ve been acting so strangely since we got that stupid photo in Edge and now you tell me you saw Cloud but you didn’t even say hello, and I wanna know the real reason why! I wanna know what you aren’t telling me!”

He slowly brought his eyes to her. In a flash, he remembered the glint of steel coming towards him, the slice of pain along his arm, the wild need to run. Run far and fast. The nightmare of being caught and cut apart. 

“Denzel, tell me now!” Marlene snapped, “I’m sick of people hiding things from me because they think I’m too young! I’m ten years old now and I deserve the truth!” She stared at him menacingly, and he knew she’d just keep arguing until she got what she wanted. An awful trait she’d picked up from Yuffie, no doubt. There’d been many times he could remember Yuffie arguing with Cloud about something inane and Cloud would always give in eventually. 

“Fine,” Denzel conceded, “I’ll tell you all about Cloud but then you won’t like him anymore.”

“I will, too!”

“You will not!”

“I will, too!”

“... Ugh, you’re such a baby sometimes.”

“Am not!”

“Forget it, Marlene.” Denzel jumped off the top bunk and walked over to the window then rested his arms on the wood pane and gazed out. 

“Tell me, Denzel!” she insisted. 

The older boy sighed then began. He told her about Icicle Inn. He told her the scary vacant look that had been in Cloud’s eyes when he cut apart that man from Junon. He told her the way Cloud hadn’t responded when Denzel called his name and how he’d jumped when Denzel barely touched his arm and swung the swords in his hands around as if Denzel were an enemy. How he’d cut Denzel’s arm so quickly, there’s been no time to react. How he so strangely refused to disavow any involvement in Tifa’s death. How Denzel had run for his life. 

At the end of the story, Marlene folded her arms and thought carefully. Denzel did not go into details about the junkie in the storefront or the Turks or anything else from that day. And he never mentioned the place he was still trapped, near the sink in the bar. Listening to Cloud tell him Tifa was dead. 

At length, the young girl spoke, “Well, you obviously scared him. Why’d you sneak up on him like that? No wonder he jumped. He probably was just reacting on instinct. And he’d never hurt Tifa, we all know that. So that was just maybe grief talking. Barret says grief makes people talk weird.”

Denzel blinked. “Are you even listening to me? He wasn’t responding when I called his name! He was like, off in some weird place in his head. And Tifa had told me once before that he wasn’t right. That all of him wasn’t really there. Do you know what I mean?”

Marlene stared adamantly away. “Sounds just like regular Cloud to me. He’s always staring off into space.”

“No, this wasn’t like that.” His frustration was growing. “He’s scary, Marlene. He’s not what you remember. He’s not even what you think you know.”

“I’ve known him longer than you!”

“Yeah, well, I was possessed by Jenova. The same shit that’s swimming in him, so I think I have more of a clue about his sanity than you do!”

Marlene gasped. “Take that back! He is not crazy!”

“I don’t know what he is, but my point is that he’s dangerous and I’m only telling you about seeing him in Junon so that you’ll just let this whole thing go and forget about him.”

“Are _you_ going to forget about him?”

Couldn’t even if I tried, Denzel thought grimly. To Marlene he said, exhausted, “No, of course not.”

“Then I won’t either. And now I’m determined to help him even more.”

He rolled his eyes. “And how are you going to do that, huh? What exactly are you going to do to somehow bring him back?”

There was a long pause while the girl thought pensively. The silence continued for quite some time and Denzel sighed, turning his eyes back outside. The dome of light pollution from Edge was visible on the horizon, extinguishing any stars in that area of the sky. 

For a ten-year-old, she was persistent and smart, Denzel had to give her that. And brave, of course. The bravest girl he knew. 

Finally, Marlene spoke, as calmly as a professor who’d just solved a fundamental equation.

“I’m going to ask Aeris.”

“...What?” Denzel turned towards her, not quite sure he’d heard correctly. “You’ll ask who?”

“The flower girl. You know. The one from the church.”

But Denzel didn’t know. He’d heard the name a few times from Cloud in stories, but… Marlene was acting like this person was still alive and from what Denzel had heard, she was dead. Very dead. Long dead, in fact. 

“I...Um, Marlene are you saying that Aeris is alive?”

She let out a little laugh. “No, no, silly. Of course not.”

Denzel stared blankly at her. “So…? You can talk to a dead person?”

Marlene nodded and smiled. “Yup.”

Now it was his turn to laugh and he rolled his eyes at her. “Stop it. You’re just being stupid now. Dead people can’t talk.”

“This one can,” she insisted. “I talk to her all the time.”

“Oh yeah? And what does she say back?” Denzel was completely skeptical. Marlene had become such a prankster lately, it was actually rather annoying. 

“It depends what I ask, obviously. And some days she doesn’t talk at all. Some days it’s more like feelings. Just the sensation of someone else.” Marlene was being totally serious, though, and Denzel had thought himself quite astute at detecting her bullshit lately, yet nothing was tipping him off right now.

“Uh huh. Sure.” A weak reply, but he was still trying to decipher the look on her face.

“You don’t believe me, but you should. She’s listening right now, I bet.”

A distinct chill moved over his skin. Marlene was talking about ghosts.

“...No, cut it out. Stop lying,” Denzel replied. 

But Marlene didn’t waver at all. “I’m not lying. You know this used to be her house, right?”

Denzel hadn’t known that and he shook his head a little. 

The young girl raised her eyes to the ceiling, “She lived in the attic room, years ago.”

The attic? Denzel shivered. Hadn’t that been the room where Cloud spent three days straight after Tifa’s death? Surely Cloud had known that was the flower girl’s room. 

“You don’t believe me?” Marlene asked crossly. 

It took Denzel a minute to reply, then it fell from him rapidly, “No. You are full of it. You can’t talk to ghosts. There are no ghosts. Dead people just die and that’s that.”

“You mean alive people die. Dead people can’t die,” she corrected him. 

“Whatever!” Denzel huffed. 

There was a silence between them where Denzel was seriously considering going out for a walk just to get away from the annoyance of Marlene. 

“I’ll show you,” she said suddenly and hopped down off the top bunk, “You don’t believe me. I’ll show you. Come up to the attic with me, and you’ll see.”

But Denzel wasn’t about to let Marlene scare him. He was older than her and he’d fought off junkies and followed Cloud across an ocean and escaped countless perils in his life. There was no way a ten year old was going to scare him now. 

“Fine,” Denzel spoke casually, “But you’re wasting your time. We both know you are lying.”

She didn’t say another word and opened their bedroom door, then peered out into the dark hallway, listening carefully. Elmyra’s room was down the hall and completely silent. The older woman was surely asleep within. Marlene beckoned Denzel to follow her and then disappeared into the darkness. He suppressed the urge to remain in the sanctity of their bedroom and timidly stepped into the hallway. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, then he saw her standing at the base of the staircase, leading into the attic. Then she ascended and the stairwell illuminated as she flicked on the lightswitch at the top of the stairs. Feeling slightly more confident now in the familiarity that the warm glow of the lamp brought, he followed her. 

Upstairs, the cozy attic room was untouched. Elmyra never went up there and, in fact, Denzel was pretty sure the last person to be in this room was Cloud. There was a pink blanket discarded across the bed, and everything was quiet. From out the single window, the city of Edge lay visible as a black splotch on the horizon. Denzel looked around mockingly. 

“Okay, I don’t see any ghosts, Marlene…”

“I said I _talk_ to her, not see her. There’s a difference. I think only Cloud can see her.”

“What? Cloud sees her?” He scratched his head. 

“That’s what she tells me,” Marlene replied with a shrug. 

Denzel sighed and shifted his weight. “What are we doing up here, Marlene? This is stupid.”

“Shhh!” Marlene suddenly stood very still and appeared to be listening. Then she closed her eyes for a second and nodded. “I hear her. She’s here.”

But there was nothing out of place in the room. It looked entirely normal. No strange movements, no rustling curtains. If there was a ghost present, it was like nothing in the movies. 

“Uh… okay.” Denzel decided to humor her. “So ask about Cloud. And Tifa.”

Marlene once again nodded then closed her eyes for a few long moments while Denzel gazed around the room at the various trinkets that apparently had belonged to the flower girl he’d heard about in stories. The woman who’d saved us all, as Cloud would have told it. But she’d been murdered by a madman. Denzel felt another chill across his skin. Isn’t that how most ghost stories start?

Then Marlene spoke up. 

“Aeris says hi to you. She also says you shouldn’t give up on Cloud. She says Cloud is… a shade.”

“A shade?” 

“Like a shadow.”

“Yeah, I coulda told you that, Marlene. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did tell you that.” Denzel folded his arms, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Marlene mimicked him and looked rather sullen. “You still don’t believe me.”

He rolled his eyes back at her. “No, I don’t.”

“Aeris says Cloud is trapped somewhere. He’s very important where he is, but he misses us. He wishes he could come home and see us and hug us, but he’s afraid of bringing home whatever is around him. He doesn’t want either of us to get hurt.” Marlene looked straight at him and Denzel suddenly found himself spellbound. “He misses you, Denzel.” 

The boy became very quiet and he merely returned Marlene’s stare. A light wind rustled the windowpane slightly to his left, and a strange abrupt scent of lilies materialized in the air around him. 

“Do...do you smell flowers?” he asked softly. 

Marlene merely nodded. “I told you she’s here.”

But that thought wasn’t comforting at all. In fact, it was downright terrifying. Suddenly Denzel wanted nothing more than to leave, but Marlene was staring at him so he had to pretend he was totally fine. Casual. Bored, even. 

“So what about Tifa? And how are we going to help Cloud?” Denzel asked. 

“Tifa…” Marlene repeated the name and sadness crossed her face. “Well, Aeris says she’s not sure what happened to Tifa, but that it wasn’t Cloud’s fault.”

“Right, that’s what I told you.” Denzel knew Cloud could never hurt Tifa, even if Tifa did say he was sick in the head once. That had been a long time ago, after she’d fallen badly down the stairs and Barret had blamed Cloud for the whole thing. And of course, Cloud had left the next morning and Tifa told Denzel it was all for the better. That felt like so long ago, and he didn’t dare mention any of it to Marlene. But Denzel was intrigued. If this dead girl really could help them, then… “So what can we do?”

A smile spread over Marlene’s lips. “Well, we go back to Junon and talk to him.”

Denzel paused, waiting for more, but Marlene didn’t say anything else. 

“...Just talk to him? Uh, I told you what I saw, Marlene. There’s no way we could just talk to him. He’s got these scary guys around him, now. And he goes to the worst part of town. You saw what almost happened to me!”

“You didn’t even let Cloud see you! If you had just spoken to him, none of that would have happened,” she argued back, clearly frustrated, “You are such a scaredy-cuahl sometimes. We just need to go back to Junon, find him again, and actually talk to him. He’s there, Denzel!”

A creak in the stairwell caused both children to jump. 

“And what are you two doing up here?” Elmyra’s tired yet stern voice emerged from the darkness, “What is this I hear about going to Junon and finding Cloud?”

Denzel spoke up, “No, I -”

Elmyra sighed loudly and pressed her hand against her temple, eyes closed, “I try my best with you, Denzel, I really do. And I’m sorry that Cloud doesn’t have the decency to care for you now that Tifa’s gone.”

“But I’m the one who left him!” Denzel immediately wanted to get that record straight, but Elmyra held up a hand to silence him. 

“I know things are hard right now, and I know you kids are struggling with everything that’s happened and I know I haven’t been there for you both as much as I’d like to be, but please help me out here. Please no more talk of Cloud or finding him or anything of that. When he’s ready to come home, he will and that’s that. That’s how adults handle things sometimes.”

“But Elmyra,” Denzel protested, entirely caught up in Marlene’s story, “Aeris says he’s trapped!”

“Aeris!” Her eyes widened, then softened, “Oh dear. Denzel….Marlene… Aeris has been gone for many years. Is that why you’re up like this in the middle of the night? Telling each other stories?”

Marlene remained completely silent and simply stared down at the floor. 

Elmyra sighed again. “I just haven’t been around enough for you both. That much is clear…” Then she looked back and forth between the two in contemplation. “Marlene,” she said at last, “I’m going to call Barret in the morning and you’ll spend some time out in Corel with him. I know how much you miss him, and I think it would do you some good to be in a more positive environment for a few weeks while I finish this next batch of appointments in Edge.”

The young girl didn’t speak but her eyes went over to Denzel in a cross between resignation and apology. 

“And you,” Elmyra turned her attention to Denzel, “I’ll ask if Barret has room for you in Corel to stay with him, too. I think getting out of Kalm for a little bit is best.”

Neither child said anything further for fear of exacerbating the situation as it was clear Elmyra was very upset.

“Now, please,” Elmyra rubbed her eyes and stepped away from the doorway, “Go to bed.”

Sullenly, the children retreated from the attic room and descended back into their normal lives. The supernatural static in the air was gone. 

Marlene didn’t speak of it again to Denzel that night, and in the morning they both sat somberly, eating breakfast, while Elmyra chatted on the phone with Barret. Denzel couldn’t focus at all during school and the day went by quickly. He didn’t want to believe that Marlene could speak with ghosts, but if it were true...if any inkling of it were true, that Cloud missed him… it made his stomach hurt. No matter everything awful that had happened, he still held onto a slim shard of hope in his head that he’d wake up one day to find this had all just been a terrible dream. He’d be running and running and run right into Cloud who would hug him tight and bring him home to Tifa. Stupid. Childish. But Denzel couldn’t deny them, all he could do was breathe out and pretend things were okay and deal with the reality that Cloud and Tifa were both gone, in the worst possible ways. 

He toyed with the cylinder of pills in one hand, the drugs everyone called ‘mako’, and thought back on what he’d heard Cloud talking about with that other man during that one fateful afternoon in Icicle Inn. Cloud had specifically told the man that he’d been clean and the man had laughed right in his face. Of course, that man was shortly cut apart but that had been for another reason entirely. 

Denzel had his suspicions that Cloud had taken the drugs at some point, only really because Cloud had been sick for three weeks straight when they’d first retreated to the formerly-snowy village. He’d been horrendously sick, locked away in his bedroom, for days barely emerging to eat and shower, and Denzel wasn’t stupid. He’d seen a few of his friends go through withdrawal before, though not nearly to the same extent. Regardless, if Cloud was still tied to the drugs somehow, Denzel now had something to connect with him. He shook the cylinder slightly, hearing the satisfying rattle within. Maybe he could use this to somehow find Cloud again. Surely seeing him in that cafe on the upper tier was completely coincidental and the odds of Cloud being in that exact spot ever again were likely slim. 

At the end of the day, he met Marlene after school and they walked home together as usual. Marlene was strangely quiet and finally Denzel asked her what was wrong. 

“What’s wrong?!” she repeated in a sudden lash of anger, “What’s wrong is Corel is across the ocean!”

“But I thought you liked seeing Barret,” Denzel replied. 

“Of course I do! But we were going to try and rescue Cloud together and now there’s no way that you and I can go back if we’re over in Corel!”

Denzel shrugged. “It won’t be forever. We can always try later.” 

“Not if he’s running out of time,” Marlene countered, “and maybe the longer Cloud is away the more he will forget us.”

That didn’t seem likely to Denzel, but he kept his mouth shut as a plan was formulating in his head. He desperately wanted to prove his bravery to Marlene, especially after he’d doubted her ghost in the attic, and he wished he could help her more than ever with this new problem brewing on the horizon. Despite their occasional argument and rivalry, he hated seeing Marlene upset and right now her own fears were swirling heavy around her like a demon. No matter what, he was still the big brother. He’s supposed to protect her. 

“Marlene…” he spoke quietly as they walked, “I’ll go to Junon. Alone. And I’ll bring him back for you.”

“You’re coming to Corel, though.”

“Not if you tell Barret I decided to stay here. He won’t think twice about that and then you can be safe with him and I’ll go to Junon. Elmyra will think I’m with Barret, too.”

“But she’ll figure that out pretty quick with one phone call.”

“That’s why I’ll have to leave for Junon tonight, at the same time Barret picks you up. It will give me time to get to Junon before either of them realizes what’s happened.”

There was a careful moment of reflection on Marlene’s face, but it fell apart fast. “No, no, what if you need help? I should go with you. I wanna see Cloud, too.”

“Then they will definitely know something is wrong and search for us much faster than if I just go alone.” But the younger girl still frowned so Denzel continued, “I know you are brave, and I know you want to see Cloud but I think both Barret and Elmyra made it clear they don’t want to help us so we’re in this alone.”

“Alone?”

“Well, together, you and I, but alone, like us and them.”

They reached the house and so the discussion stopped there, but once inside it was clear Elmyra was gone. Not home from her new weekday appointment in Edge yet, but there was a note on the table expressing her apologies for the late evening, instructing them to order food for dinner, and telling them that she’d arranged for Barret to pick them up that evening. 

“This is great,” Denzel said at once, “If she’s not going to be home by the time Barret picks you up, I can just leave right away and you can tell Barret I’m with her.”

But Marlene looked at him skeptically, “And you’re sure you wanna do this? You sure you won’t be scared of him again?”

Denzel grinned as best he could. “Cross my heart.”

A genuine smile passed over her now. “...Thanks, Denzel. I really hope this works.”

“Me too…” And with that he went over to the bookcase and withdrew the book he’d seen Elmyra use several times. Hidden inside, as he knew would be, was a stash of gil. He withdrew enough for a flight to and from Junon and some extra for food, leaving the rest untouched. Marlene watched disapprovingly. “What?” he defended, “I need to make sure I can get back home if I can’t find Cloud...”

The phone rang in the kitchen and Marlene answered. It was Barret, judging by the tone she used, and when she’d hung up she informed Denzel that Barret was in-flight, arriving in about an hour. Early. Denzel quickly got a few things together in his backpack, the dagger and the mako especially, then he gave Marlene a brisk hug. 

“Be careful, Denzel…” She sounded so much like Tifa. 

He simply smiled back and then departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to drop a quick note here — it is purposeful that Marlene's story is a bit mixed up. Aerith of course never lived in the attic of the house in Kalm, but I like the idea of kids hearing things and mixing up stories accidentally.


	6. A Very Bad Idea

This had all been a very bad idea. Junon was caught in an absolute deluge, had been ever since Denzel arrived two night ago, and now his clothes were soaked through, he was freezing, and his gil was nearly gone. He’d gone to that same cafe on the upper tier so many times, sometimes remaining for hours with a single cup of cold coffee, but Cloud never showed. He had paced the lower tiers, gone down to the beach, even ventured back into the slums once, but still there was nothing. Not even a trace, and nobody would tell him anything. Now all he had left was that cylinder of drugs he’d pilfered during the beach day with Marlene and his steadily racing pulse. 

It didn’t make sense. Junon was supposedly a city steeped in drugs and violence, yet it was impossible to locate any information. Nobody would talk. Denzel was completely frustrated and falling into hopelessness.

It was night, and the bravery he’d initially felt at proving himself to Marlene had quickly faltered after the first day. Junon was not a pleasant city. He’d already had to defend himself from robbery twice, though the second time was substantially easier. Maybe he was getting braver. But now, it was pouring and he was freezing, huddled against the side of the cafe long after closing time. If he spent gil for another room at an inn, then he wouldn’t have enough to get home. And if he never saw Cloud again, what was his plan? He’d just have to cave and call Elmyra from a payphone and beg for her forgiveness. Then he’d never be let out of her sight again, and Denzel wasn’t entirely ready for that, not just yet. He still had the drugs on him. There was still a hope that somehow he could bribe someone to talk and just tell him where he could find Cloud. 

That name had, so far, been nothing but a conversation stopper. The moment the word fell from Denzel’s lips, everyone he’d spoken with had halted and blankly told him to fuck off. Some acted like it was a joke, others shook their heads in fear. Denzel was sick of it. He shivered and prayed the rain would lighten up so he could at least make his way towards the lower tier and try… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would try, but it seemed to make sense to just try anything else at this point because the cafe had proven to be a dead end. 

As if the storm was listening, the pouring rain began to let up. Slowly, the deluge tapered off and Denzel slipped away from the alcove of the cafe, rushing forward along the buildings until he reached the lower tier. It occurred to Denzel that it was possible Cloud actually didn’t live in Junon at all, that maybe he was in some far off place like Wutai and that he’d only seen Cloud in the city that one day on pure coincidence. 

The edge of the shopping district appeared through the hazy rain and the streetlamps marched onward into the slums like dismal sentinels. As he moved forward, the rain picked up again and Denzel looked around fast for a place to take refuge. At the end of the next block, a woman stood alone in front of an abandoned storefront that looked like it had been a bar at some point in its life. She was loitering under the moldy awning, seeking shelter from the rain, but didn’t appear particularly dangerous, so Denzel rushed forward and stepped under the awning alongside her, catching his breath. 

“Geez, you okay, kid?” the woman asked. She was a pretty brunette smoking a cigarette, though Denzel could see the roots of her long hair was blonde like she’d dyed it darker in the past. Her face was gentle, though, so Denzel didn’t feel threatened. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “I’m fine. I’m just… just got caught in the storm.”

“Me too….” She took a long drag of her cigarette and simply gazed out at the water pouring over the roof of the awning like a waterfall. “Say, kid, you here alone?”

“No,” Denzel lied, “I’ve just lost my friend...I’m looking for him actually.”

“Friend, huh?” she let out a little chuckle, “In this part of town?”

“Well…” Denzel thought carefully, “Yeah, I have something for him. He asked me specifically to bring something to him, but I … I lost my phone and now I can’t contact him. Maybe you know him.”

“I doubt that, kid.” She exhaled a stream of smoke in his direction. “Unless he lives around here, I don’t think I’d know him.”

This is where things get rough, Denzel braced himself. “His name is Cloud.”

But the woman didn’t even blink. “Oh. Him.” But she said it like it was the worst thing in the world, “I didn’t know they were recruiting kids now.”

Denzel decided to play along. “Yeah, yup, they are. Do you know where I can find him?”

She snuffed the end of her cigarette into the concrete, grinding it with the spike of her heel. 

“What are you really doing here, kid? I don’t think he’s your friend.” She bent slightly to look Denzel square in the eye, and he noticed she had very thick red lipstick on and that her shirt was extremely low-cut. He tried not to look, but it was impossible at this angle because he could clearly see her cleavage. “I don’t think you know what you are doing here at all,” she said.

“But you do know him?” Denzel pulled his eyes back to her face. “Cloud?”

She stood and lit up another cigarette. “Hmm, information ain’t cheap.”

“And you know where I can find him?”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and watched the rain. “I know a place where you can probably find him, if you really want that.”

Denzel breathed out in relief. “Oh, that would be great! Yes, I’ve been trying to find him for days but nobody would help me!”

“There’s a reason for that, kid…”

“But you will and so I can’t thank you enough!”

“Well, I ain’t telling you anything unless there’s something in it for me…”

Denzel was prepared for this, though, and he calmly procured the cylinder of pills. “I’ll give you one of my pills.”

The woman gazed at him cautiously. “Is that mako?”

He nodded, though he didn’t know first-hand if it was, he had only recognized the shape and hue of the pills. There were only four in the bottle, but he was willing to part with all of them if it could somehow get him closer to Cloud. It all seemed so obscene to him that the last time he’d been in Junon, he’d been less than a dozen paces from Cloud and had been too terrified to even reach out and now he was hunting the city, desperate for any small trace of the man. At least now, finally, his luck was turning.

“Hmm,” she considered it for a moment, “How do I know that’s real?”

This never occurred to Denzel and he stared blankly at her. 

“Stories are goin’ around town about death being sold in the form of mako. How do I know what you have isn’t going to kill me?” she asked, inhaling her cigarette and narrowing her eyes at Denzel. “How do I know that’s legit?”

“Oh, um…” He looked down at the container. He’d taken mako a few times in the past, and the pills looked the same as he remembered, though he’d honestly mostly used the powder version back when he and Martin used to shoot up after school. Martin’s mom was a junkie and so it was easy for them to take a bit of her stash and have fun. Denzel was squeamish though and Martin always had to help him out with the needles. Denzel squinted at the pills. He couldn’t really be sure, but this woman was so far his one and only shot at finding Cloud. 

So he took a chance. 

Without hesitation, he popped a pill in his mouth and swallowed then looked back at the woman. “If it was lethal, would I have done that?” Stupid, Denzel, he heard his voice in his head. Very stupid. 

She visibly relaxed and took another drag of her cigarette, as if considering his proposition.

“Gimme two of those and I’ll bring you somewhere you can find him,” she agreed.

Without further hesitations, Denzel handed over the slender green pills. That left only one more. 

“Okay, kid. Just don’t blame me when you find yourself lying in a pool of your own blood an hour from now…” she remarked and began rooting around her purse for something. 

The whole situation still felt a bit uneasy, but Denzel was happy to be making any progress at all. He’d just as soon bribe the next person with mako, too, if that’s what it took to get closer. Then eventually would come the hard part. Denzel exhaled, trying to calm his nerves, but he’d practiced what he would say to Cloud and so he should just follow his script and everything would be fine. Or it wouldn’t be. But at least he would no longer need to wonder one way or another. 

The woman produced a small umbrella from her purse and then swallowed one of the pills. 

“C’mon, kid,” she said and stepped out into the rain, motioning for him to join her, “Follow me.”

Wind lashed at them and the umbrella did little to protect him, but he said nothing and trailed her along the empty streets. Everywhere he looked, there were rundown buildings, shady figures hanging back in alcoves, steel bars on all the windows, and pretty much every shop was closed. It didn’t take him long to realize she was leading him into the very seediest part of the city, and his heartbeat quickened. He was taking a big chance trusting a stranger like this, but he felt he had little choice but to move forward. Marlene was counting on him, after all. 

Around the corner, a building appeared through the rain, interior lit up with inviting yellow glow. There was a neon sign in the window highlighting various brews and a bouncer stood at the top of the stairs underneath the shadowy awning. There was no name or anything written anywhere to distinguish this bar from any others that could be around, yet the woman didn’t hesitate and marched right up to the front with Denzel close behind. 

The bouncer stopped them both, but only to make friendly conversation with the woman. “Isn’t he a little young for you, Candi?” the muscled guy remarked. 

She laughed and shook her head. “He ain’t for me. I’m bringing him to Dax. He here?”

The bouncer nodded. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Go on up. I see you both are already taken care of, though.”

Already taken care of? Denzel didn’t understand and looked up at the woman for information, but she simply smiled back at the guy. 

“Yeah,” she said, “Little man here kindly shared with me.”

This time the bouncer turned his attention to Denzel. “Ah, I see. Enjoy then. And good luck, kid.”

Denzel still didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter because the door was pushed open, and the woman stepped forward into darkness and Denzel followed. 

A haze of music, lights, and people immediately greeted him once they entered a second interior entrance. Instantly the dreary outdoors of rain and darkness was expelled in a burst of heat and crowded conversation. The bar was packed. Cigarette smoke hung above them illuminated by rows of bulbs in the ceiling, and music pulsed from unseen speakers somewhere towards the back.

Denzel was no stranger to the bar scene. He’d been around plenty of drunks and was not intimidated in the least by the crowds, but there was something else going on here. This was more than just a typical bar. As he slid through the throngs of people sipping drinks, laughing, yelling, he realized mostly everyone had the shine of drugs in their eyes.

He continued following the woman, though it was difficult to keep track of her through the dim lighting. The bar wasn’t that big, but he couldn’t tell where they were going and the music was only getting louder as they moved deeper. She occasionally waved to other people in the bar or stopped to chat a friendly word or two while Denzel stood dumbly by, but he couldn’t hear anything she was saying. 

Then the drugs kicked in. 

All at once, the mako hit him and the world fell back. Colors popped vibrantly, exaggerating the sensations around him, and a flush of sudden strength and confidence kissed his muscles then lifted him up. Away. All of it was so far away. He was just a passenger watching the scenery go by. 

He’d taken mako before, of course, but this was more potent than anything he’d ever experienced, and a small ray of panic was desperately pulling at him. Then that too faded away. Dizziness buzzed around his skull and everywhere he looked was something fresh and interesting. The earrings of this woman next to him were spellbinding suddenly. 

Someone knocked into him, spilling their drink, and Denzel laughed. The smoke in the air made it hard to see and when he looked up from his drenched shirt, the woman was gone. Vaguely he remembered needing to follow her, but he no longer cared. It wasn’t important. Everything was razor sharp, except the lights were hurting his eyes. Somehow the duality of induced clarity and dizziness balanced each other out in stark moments of contrast.

A dim alarm in his head was ringing, like skeleton fingers curling around his shoulders. Something was wrong. This wasn’t mako. 

The dizzy sensation whirled around his body and he felt like he was walking forward, yet nothing was moving. All around him, people were sliding in and out of his vision and the colors from their clothing bled outward, upward. Denzel’s stomach churned in circles as the room revolved. 

Instantly, he felt like puking. Blindly rushing forward, he tore towards the nearest wall, searching for a restroom. Feeling peeling paint under his fingers, he held on for dear life while the rest of his body ached and spiraled. It was hard to breath. He stared at the wall, trying extremely hard to repress the vomit seeking its way up his throat. 

Then his eyes fell on something to his left. Something along the far wall. It was a single chair, black faded leather, unoccupied. A lounge chair. There were several others nearby. He’d somehow reached the very back of the bar where happy customers were perched with drinks in hand, conversing rapidly above the music. But this one chair was menacing somehow. Denzel couldn’t stop staring at the tiny metal rivets along the edge of the upholstered material. They shone like materia under the bright lights. They looked like they were expanding. Breathing. The chair was alive, surely. There was no other explanation. And it was looking at him. 

Denzel fell back a step, still keeping his hand on the wall. The big chair remained still, but those rivets along the side suddenly opened. They were eyes, thousands of eyes. And all of them were watching Denzel. Glaring at him. 

“F-f-fuck!” he yelped, feeling cold sweat on his face. 

His heart pounded faster than he ever thought possible. Faster than an entire afternoon of running. And the hazy light filtering through the smoke was impossibly vivid. Everything was moving now, slowly, like a dying heartbeat. Back and forth. 

Denzel closed his eyes. That was a big mistake. All at once, his stomach surged and he tasted bile on his tongue. Frantically turning away from the monstrous carnivorous chair, he flung himself towards the nearest door along the wall. A wooden swinging door. He bolted through and instant relief shocked him like ice water. 

It was a bathroom. A glorious bathroom. Pushing aside two other people, he rushed into a stall and puked into the toilet. His stomach twisted and pushed up into his lungs and he coughed and vomited again and again until there was nothing but clear fluid coming from his mouth. 

Out of breath and sighing, he rested one arm across the toilet bowl, holding his head up over the messy water below. With one hand, he flushed and watched it all disappear. The water was spiraling away, down, through the pipes in front of his eyes, and a fresh fear sparked inside him as it spun around and around. He pushed himself away from the toilet dismally, and wiped his mouth. 

Resting his back against the stall, he tried to slow his breathing and relax. Then he noticed someone standing over him. 

“You okay, kid?” a soft voice spoke.

Denzel peered up at the source. A young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood in the doorway of the open stall. With long curly brown hair and shiny sea-green eyes, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. White light glowed from behind her angel’s wings. Denzel stared, mesmerized. 

“This your first trip on LS?” she asked, kneeling next to him.

“...LS?” he repeated dumbly. “What…?”

“Lifestream.” 

Denzel blinked. He’d never heard of this new drug. “No,” he mumbled back, “No, I was taking mako.”

The girl giggled. “Lifestream is mako. It’s the more potent version. Makes ya see the truth of things, some say.”

“The truth?” Denzel hugged his knees to his chest. “I...I thought it was regular mako. I didn’t mean to…”

He vaguely recalled hearing that Wutai had the best strains which was why it was always much more expensive, so it was very possible that the mako he would shoot up with Martin wasn’t even close to pure. It was also possible, then, that this was the first time he was experiencing actual pure mako. It would all have been very exhilarating if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying.

The girl reached out and gently touched his arm. The sudden sensation of warmth grounded him, and the flitting needles in his stomach calmed down but the walls of the bathroom were still sliding downwards, melting into the floor like an unending waterfall. Don’t look at it, Denzel instructed himself, just focus on her. 

“My first trip was real bad, too,” she continued, “You here alone? You really shouldn’t be alone.”

Then Denzel realized he was still in the bathroom. 

“Wait, what are you doing in the men’s room?” he asked her suddenly, as if it were truly important. 

She laughed again. “This is the ladies’ room.”

But the usual embarrassment that Denzel should have felt didn’t happen. He just continued sitting quietly, amazed that he’d been able to get to a bathroom at all. Ladies’ room. That meant he would need to leave soon, but he was terrified of what lay outside the safety of the stall door.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asked kindly.

“...Denzel,” he muttered, not daring to move because it still felt like anything could come to life and bite him.

“First time in the city, Denzel? I’ve never seen you here.”

“First time here,” Denzel repeated, though he was referring to the bar not the city itself. 

“Well, this isn’t exactly the best way to remember it,” she replied, still smiling at him, “How about I help you out of the bathroom and we can sit quietly in the lounge upstairs? The music is quieter and I think it will help settle you.”

There was absolutely no way Denzel wanted to move, but in his head he knew he couldn’t stay on the bathroom floor forever. Nodding, he began to slowly push himself up and the girl caught one of his arms in hers, supporting his weight. 

“Just breathe and relax. Nothing will hurt you,” she was saying as they stepped together out of the stall. “It’s frightening but let me assure you that you aren’t alone. It can be fun if you relax.”

Denzel caught sight of himself in the mirror as they stepped past the row of sinks. That horrid shine of drugs looked brightly back at him. The last time he’d been on mako was when he shot up with Martin, and Martin’s mom had caught them and thrown Denzel out in the middle of the night. Then Cloud nearly killed him when he returned home with the remnants of drugs in his eyes. And now...Cloud… wait….Denzel suddenly remembered in a flash what he was supposed to be doing. 

“Cloud,” Denzel shouted frantically, suddenly looking around, “I’m supposed to be looking for Cloud.”

“Wait, what?” The girl holding him up turned towards him with a puzzled expression. 

“Cloud,” Denzel repeated it like an incantation, “Cloud is here, isn’t he? Or maybe someone... I was following a woman. I came here with a woman. Did you see her?”

The girl shook her head, and with her free hand she pushed open the door of the bathroom. The immediate darkness and loud terror of the bar tumbled towards him, but Denzel stood fast. He needed to find Cloud. Closing his eyes, he concentrated only on the girl next to him. Only on her touch, holding him steady.

“I need to find her. I need to find him,” Denzel mumbled but he was certain she wouldn’t be able to hear him over the noise of the bar now.

Cautiously he stepped forward with her, holding on tight, barely opening his eyes more than a sliver to repel the intensity of the surroundings. At length, they reached a staircase and climbed. The air on the second floor was cooler and the music was a low rumble in the speakers, nothing at all like the booming chaos of the first floor. 

Opening his eyes just a bit more, he spotted several velvety couches and small tables. A handful of addicts were crowded around one of the tables, and another group chatted leisurely with cocktails in hand. A few couples were engaged in raucous behavior in the dark corners of the room, and Denzel took a deep breath. The fear of the sea of people beneath them in the crowded bar was at last dissipating. 

Here, the calmness of the environment was moving softly around him like ripples in a puddle. Taking his hand, the girl led Denzel over to one of the plush couches and sat him down. 

“Okay,” she exhaled, “Better now?”

He nodded. 

“Good. Let me get you some water -”

“No.” Denzel felt his hand dart out to hers. “Don’t go. Please. Not yet.”

She leaned back. “Okay, Denzel. No problem.”

The drugs were settling into a vague calamity, moving the scenery around in patches of sliding colors, but it was calming somehow. He could just sit and watch, not worrying about the things on the first floor trying to eat him. 

“Don’t worry about throwing up,” the girl remarked suddenly, “The same thing happened to me right after I took my first one. Just as it hit me, I got dizzy and puked all over my shoes.”

Denzel was focusing on the lamp directly next to them on a small table. It was an ornate silver thing, with a delicate shade of ivory on top. Small beads hung from the sides like crystals. 

“Are you really here alone? Who did you say you were looking for?”

Denzel rolled his attention back to the beautiful green eyes. 

“A woman brought me here, but I’m not with her, exactly. I gave her mako so she could get me close to Cloud. He’s my...friend. That’s who I’m really looking for.”

The girl twisted one finger in her hair, thinking carefully. “Cloud. Cloud. Hmmm. Nope, sorry, I don’t know him. Does he come here often? What does he look like?”

“Well,” Denzel began carefully, trying to picture the man amidst the fog in his head, “He’s tall. And he’s blonde, got like spiky messy hair. Blue eyes, but they are shiny with actual Mako not like drugs.”

“Actual Mako?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “What, like he’s a Soldier?” 

Denzel shrugged. “Not really. It’s a long story, I think. Oh, and the last time I saw him he had a scar down the side of his face.”

The girl’s frown faded and her mouth hung open. “A...a scar?”

“Yeah,” Denzel continued, able to focus a bit better, “Like around one eye socket then down his cheek.” He drew a line on his own face with a finger to illustrate. “He wouldn’t say where he got it from.”

Her face went white and she stood, backing away from Denzel. 

“Are you… are you sure about this person being your friend?” Her tone was edging into a subtle fear, and Denzel picked up on it at once. 

“Why are you afraid? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Denzel,” the girl assured him, but she took another step away. “Let me go get you that water.”

“No!” The thought of her abandoning him struck like a stab to the gut. Then he heard the foolishness of his own voice and tried again, “No. Please, don’t go. I’m sorry I mentioned Cloud. I won’t mention him again.”

“It’s fine, Denzel. Really,” she said and brushed a strand of hair from her face, “I’ll only be gone for a moment. Just want to get you some water. You need water I’m sure. Just stay right here.”

She held out one hand, vibrant glowing skin with fingers wide, imploring Denzel to stay, and then she backed away and disappeared into the dark maze of the lounge. He watched her vanish, light lingering behind her like a trail of dust, then he was alone. The room continued rushing like water around him.

“Only a moment…” he repeated to himself and swallowed, trying very hard to ignore the uneasy sensation crawling on his legs. Like little spiders. Walking, webbing, traveling upwards, spinning around his calves. The soft plush fabric sunk down, swallowing him up. 

“Just stay right here…” he mimicked the girl’s last words to him. “Right here…”

But where was here? In the back of his head he knew it was Junon, but the madness around him felt like it couldn’t possibly exist on the same planet as the bleak rainy deserted streets he’d been running through so long ago. Or moments ago. He put a hand on his shirt. Soaked with rain. Or maybe booze. He smelled his hand. Alcohol. But hadn’t it been raining too? Denzel couldn’t recall how much time had passed. He still had his backpack, though, which meant he still had more mako, or lifestream rather, and he could still find Cloud with it. Maybe.

“Stay…” The light next to him was flickering. A power failure, he supposed. It flashed on and off a handful of times then steadied. 

A dozen figures strolled past him, laughing, on their way to the next couch over, joining a few other junkies. Their hands were made of needles and they wore all black. The beat of the music was breathing through everything around him in perfect unified pulses, and the spiders were marching to it now.

“Right…” 

He closed his eyes and found he could watch the shadows move beneath his eyes. He followed their shapes around the room, without the bright colors or terrifying images. Just dark little movements. 

“Here…”

Then he realized she wasn’t coming back.


	7. A Very Good Idea

He was alone. Entirely alone, in a crowded bar full of drunks and addicts and revelers. Lights and music swayed around him and he sat sunken into the couch, watching it all go by. Time must be passing, Denzel was sure of it, but the drugs were not diminishing in their potency. The delicate calm of mako pills was there, somewhere, beneath the dizzying circus of colors and people, deep in the back of his head, and he hoped that soon it would become the dominant sensation. He’d never hallucinated before, and it was more than he could handle considering he wasn’t prepared for it. Maybe if he’d known ahead of time, things would be different. He’d have gotten to the couch sooner, for one. 

The light next to him suddenly flickered off then back on again. Denzel gulped. The minor loss of power likely meant the storm outside was getting worse. Instant panic blossomed in his mind. If all of the power went out, the entire room would be darkness. 

“Right here…Right here...” he repeated like a mantra, but now he knew for sure that he couldn’t stay put. He needed to… what was it again? He needed to find Cloud, that’s right. 

He had to leave, but surely the girl had told him to stay right here for a reason. Surely she would be back soon. Or maybe he’d be sitting here all night, alone, and he couldn’t tolerate the thought. He wistfully gave one last look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl with green eyes, but of course she was nowhere to be seen. 

Then his eyes fell on something curious, something he’d somehow not noticed earlier.

Far along the back wall, almost hidden in darkness, was a thick dark red curtain hanging from ceiling to floor, drifting gently with the flow of air in the room. It seemed so out of place and yet blended away so perfectly that Denzel had to stare for several moments to determine that it was in fact there. Existing. A mysterious gateway. He watched curiously as a couple approached the curtain, chatted for a moment together, then disappeared. Behind the curtain, a door opened and then shut quickly allowing them in, but in that brief second, Denzel could tell that the place within was bright. A well-lit room. He watched as another man approached the door, paused, then turned away. Then another. A slow dribble of people approached at seemingly random intervals, and it didn’t immediately seem obvious why some entered while others didn’t. 

The appeal of the curtained room was tugging at Denzel. It was somewhere important. Some place not everyone could go, or maybe where they didn’t want to go. And if he was going to find any trace of Cloud anywhere, it wouldn’t be in the lounge next to a group of junkies. The woman had specifically brought him here, with knowledge that someone close to Cloud was nearby, maybe the man himself was here right now. Maybe he was behind that door. 

Denzel nodded. Yes, he had to get away from the darkness of the burnt-out lamp bleeding across at him, and the periodic brightness flooding from behind the curtain seemed like a good idea. A very good idea. Slowly, Denzel stood, feeling the spiders drop from his legs. They scurried away underfoot and he shivered. Then he stepped forward. The curtain was shimmering delicately far ahead.

Another person approached the curtain and entered, then another. Strangely he saw nobody leaving, but the thought occurred as a passing irrelevance and the lure of the unknown area pulled at Denzel like a magnet. He was trapped in its gravity. Sliding against the wall, Denzel inched forward. All he could see was that red color in his sights. The curtain was a velvety material. It looked soft. He reached out. 

Then someone pushed past him and entered. The momentary blade of light caught Denzel off guard and he winced, feeling the pulse of the interior room. There was music playing, but not just from one source. It was a cacophony of sounds converging from independent places. Almost like a room full of bells and radios. Then the door closed and the sudden darkness was difficult to adjust to right away. But he was so close. Letting out a breath, he felt his hand touch the material of the curtain — very soft indeed — then he stepped forward and found the door. 

With one brave push, he was through. The white light ensconced him then he quickly realized there were several bright overhead lights directly aimed at the doorway purposefully, likely to conceal the contents of the room. Or create a dizzying effect on anyone walking through. It worked. Denzel’s head spun at the sudden change from dark to light, but he forced his legs forward to get through the soup of brightness flooding his skin and eyes. The damn drugs were highlighting and amplifying all sorts of things, and Denzel pushed forward again, finding his legs and feet through the swamp. He was in a long hallway. There were mirrors on either side. And ahead he could make out a few people stumbling their way forward. Dim lighting in the floor pointed the way along the corridor. The collision of music and noises were getting louder as he progressed.

Then he turned the final corner and his jaw dropped. 

It was an entire hall, nearly double the size of the bar downstairs, filled with arcade games. Strings of lights stretched along the ceiling, white and yellow and pink and blue, and rows of video games packed the entire place. People were everywhere, laughing and talking and playing, with drinks in hand, and the noises that Denzel had heard earlier were now clearly the sounds of several different arcade games being played all at once. It was like the Gold Saucer, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. The dingy darkness and horrors were behind him, back down that long mirrored walkway, and all that stood in front of him was a vibrant settling joy. 

He took a step forward, glancing all around. There was the brand new shooter he’d played with Marlene before, and there was that classic racing game that he loved, and there was one he’d never seen before. There were many he’d never seen, in fact. The noises and crowds filled his senses, but it was an inviting friendly feeling. Denzel glided forward like liquid, easily passing around clusters of gamers and gawkers. He paused in front of one group. The snowboarding game. Tifa’s favorite. The player was obviously drunk, though, Denzel noticed. He wasn’t hardly even playing the game right and was missing every single balloon.

A tiny chuckle escaped Denzel as he watched the guy miss yet another one.

The man spun around, holding his drink in one hand and pointed straight at Denzel with the other. 

“Hey, man, what’s so funny?” he snarled at Denzel. 

“Um, you missed like every single balloon,” Denzel replied, gesturing towards the screen.

“Yeah?” the guy glared back at the screen for a second, “Well, I ain’t even trying anyways.”

He took a drink, spilling some on the floor from the lip of his cup, and Denzel noticed the game was still running behind him. The screen was twice as big as the one as the Saucer, and the bulbs of lights around it burned so bright it was impossible to look away. 

“Can I try?” Denzel found himself asking. 

The man shrugged and stumbled back. “Sure, kid. Whatever.”

Eagerly, Denzel took the controls. The screen moved fast, much faster than he remembered, but he’d played this stage so many times he knew the map by heart. The snowmen danced on the screen, such happy little faces, and the balloons were giant. There were so many, everywhere. They filled the sky, even! Denzel started laughing as he hit a string of them in a row with the practice of a thousand previous games. Victory greeted him at the end of the stage, and his chest filled with pride. 

“Ha!” Denzel exclaimed at the screen and turned back towards the drunk man, who now, somehow was holding two drinks. Each time Denzel glanced at him, he seemed to be carrying more and more drinks, stacked and sliding in his arms, until he was almost surrounded with booze. At least the hallucinations were getting tamer, Denzel reflected, suppressing the desire to laugh aloud. The girl with green eyed had been right. It was fun after all.

The room was chiming, alive, and the game started over. Had someone put more gil in? Who cares, Denzel thought, and gleefully selected a fresh game. 

“This is fun,” he remarked to nobody, entirely focused on getting a perfect score this time. The snow moved in waves and whirled and the mountains looked so damn cold. Brr, Denzel shivered and grabbed another bunch of balloons. Pop, pop, pop.

He’d never felt so completely satisfied before, and he was just about to start the next stage when the power flickered off for just a second then roared back to life. The game sputtered and reset. The screen staggered, looping on the start menu. 

“Aw man,” the drunk man was still standing next to Denzel and apparently had been watching, “Tough break, man. Power outages happen, I guess. You are so good at this game!”

The warmth of dominance over the snowy pass was still wrapped around Denzel like a fuzzy blanket and he wasn’t at all perturbed that his game was interrupted. Instead he smiled back at the drunk guy. 

“Thanks. It’s been awhile since I played, but…” Denzel’s memory blinked and he suddenly remembered the last time he’d in fact played. Then he remembered Cloud. “But...I gotta go.”

He brushed aside the other guy and continued through the spiraling room, leaving the snowboarding game far behind and trying very hard not to lose the goal in his head of finding Cloud. That was why he was here, after all. This was Junon. Right? Denzel looked around, but everywhere there were crowds and lights and sounds of happiness. The room was a joyous occasion incarnate. He told himself it was all a distortion caused by the drugs and forced one foot in front of the other until he reached the other side of the room. Gazing down each row of games, he did not see the woman with red lips, the girl with green eyes, or the guy with blonde hair anywhere. 

The flow of people moving towards a bar area in the corner caught Denzel in its current, and he suddenly found himself holding the edge of a curved wooden counter. Blue lights illuminated the area beneath the bar, pale reflective sheets of metal.

“You’re too young.” A woman’s voice was somewhere above him. Denzel looked up. A bartender wearing nothing but a bra and suspenders over a short skirt pursed her lips down at him. Her skin was so impossibly smooth she looked like a delicate doll. He wished he could touch her.

“I said you’re too young,” the woman repeated, chewing gum, “Can’t serve you here.”

“Oh,” Denzel realized the confusion, “No, no, I’m not here for a drink.”

“Then what are you here for?” she countered and waved him away, clearly not wanting an actual answer. 

He thought about asking her if she knew Cloud, but the moment had passed and she was already on the other side of the bar mixing a drink. The room stretched outward, upward, and he took a step back to steady himself. No, he shook his head, he needed to focus or he’d be lost in here forever. Focus, focus, he begged his mind, but it was no good. The more he tried to concentrate, the further away everything got, and he felt himself fall again into the tide of people, moving around the arcade, watching streaks of screens and pops of celebratory cheers or groans of defeat go by. 

At some point, he reached another door. An expressionless entry that people were coming and going through with ease. Grasping the handle, he stepped through the void. 

Instantly, there was another hallway and the low murmur of the music behind him was already fading. 

This corridor was painted black, and as Denzel cautiously made his way forward, he realized there were several more doors along the hall like a hotel. None of the doors had labels or any distinguishing characteristics though. The crowds had thinned considerably. Soon Denzel was alone, walking endlessly with the putrid scent of spilled booze underfoot. The lightness of the arcade room was still in his chest, making him braver than he ever thought possible. The corridor would finally end. It had to, he reasoned. But it didn’t. It just kept going. 

Or was he going in circles? He glanced back the way he’d come but it, too, was filled with faceless doors. A trickle of terror leaked through the confidence in his bones. 

He tried one of the doors. Locked. He tried another. Locked, as well. He tried four in a row. All locked. 

“No…” It was possible he was trapped. He’d never find his way out. 

Then a door opened directly to his left. A figure was exiting, and Denzel immediately leapt forward to catch the door before it shut again. Once inside the next room, he took a breath and looked around. 

It appeared that he was on the spectator circle of an operating room. But that couldn’t be right. He wasn’t in a hospital, last he knew, but this place definitely was fashioned after one. There were other people seated around the sunken central area of the room. Behind the glass, Denzel could see nothing of interest. It was an empty metal table and chair, yet more people were entering the room and solemnly taking a seat. Nobody spoke.

Then something happened. Below, a second door in the operating theater opened, and a man dressed in surgeon’s scrubs entered carrying a woman. She appeared to be drugged as she lazily lifted her head and struggled ineffectively in outbursts of suppressed strength. There was no way to see the man’s face beneath his surgical mask, but he did not look like a real doctor to Denzel. Everything about him was wrong. He withdrew a case from his pocket and procured a needle. 

Everyone in the spectator ring watched in silence, some leaning forward in their chairs. Denzel watched, too, oddly fascinated. Puddles of darkness followed the man’s steps like sticky tar and Denzel began to feel entirely uneasy through the haziness of the drugs. The man injected the woman with the syringe contents and she instantly stopped resisting him, though she was still awake. He put her down on the metal table and strapped thick pieces of black material across her body to hold her still. Then he withdrew a scalpel. 

“What the fuck?” Denzel heard his own whisper, but it was too late. 

The fake doctor slid the scalpel into the soft tissue at the base of her neck near the clavicle and she moaned. Blood erupted outward, trailing down. Then he cut her again and again in quick horrid movements, slicing along her ribs and through the center of her chest. She writhed but could do no more beneath the restraints, helpless to the impossible things happening to her. The crowd was enthralled, motionless, watching. One guy had his hand down his pants, jerking off with eyes fixated on the bleeding wreck unfolding below. Denzel stood and backed away, but he too could not take his eyes off the horror he was witnessing. 

The woman groaned again, a dull drugged sound, and the man was eagerly progressing deeper into her body. Blood spilled heavily onto the floor. Denzel threw up. The woman stopped moving but the doctor continued his work. All eyes were watching closely. All terror was consuming Denzel in dizzy frantic awful pulses. He’d just watched a woman die. No, he’d watched a woman be murdered. He wiped vomit from his mouth and found his feet, then he propelled himself to the door with all senses on high alert, screaming alarm. 

The black door wrenched open and he practically flung into the hallway. Then he threw up again. But there was no time to think about anything except getting as far away from that door as possible. He ran down the hall, passing many other black doors and it occurred to him that behind each were horrors unimaginable. All sorts of people dying, being murdered, in front of others. For a show, or a spectacle. He kept running.

Suddenly he was back in the arcade. The sounds of the games around him played loud in his ears, deafening, and the previously inviting atmosphere was dark and foreboding now that he knew what lay beneath it all. Pure panic overtook him. 

Then someone grabbed his arm.

“There you are!” 

It was the woman with the red lips, the one Denzel had given mako to, except now he knew it was actually lifestream and was giving him an incredibly awful trip. Surely she was also under the influence of the same, yet she appeared remarkably fine, standing there with hands on her hips, a cigarette hanging from her full lips. 

“I’ve been looking for you, kid. Figured you’d be in the arcade. Were you coming from the black rooms?” she asked with mild exasperation, but didn’t wait for Denzel to answer “This is some strong stuff you shared with me, kiddo. Who’d you buy it from?”

Denzel stammered an unintelligible reply.

“Well whatever it is, it's the best shit I’ve had in months,” she told him, flicking ash, “C’mon, you want me to bring you to your friend or not?”

Denzel nodded weakly, but it was hard to focus and make sense of any of it. Denzel wished he would sober up so he could concentrate, but that was impossible. The woman with the red lips lifted Denzel up and pulled him away, out of the arcade, deeper into the lounge, through the couches, past the junkies. 

There was nothing he could do to stop the hand leading him away, reeling him forward in a rush of color and sound. They approached another smaller room, though Denzel couldn’t tell how far they’d traveled from their original destination or even if the room was on the same floor. The music pulsed at a deeper darker beat in the background, a subtle rhythmic undertow, and within the dimly lit room a smattering of small booths were visible. There were less people back here, but it was clear everyone was a junkie, and nobody glanced up at them. 

The drugs were still flowing through his veins, however, so Denzel stood completely still, trying his best to ignore the dread climbing over his skin and curling into his chest. Waves of tiny movements danced on the wallpaper, red and pink, and his heart beat faster. His hands were trembling. Shit, keep it together, he begged himself.

“Dax,” the woman called to one of the men sitting on the nearby couch. 

The man turned towards them and Denzel froze. It was the man from the basement. The one who had been with Cloud. The one who had threatened him. The man with short black hair and two daggers.

But the man didn’t even glance at Denzel; he was focused solely on the woman. 

“Hey, my favorite girl!” the man named Dax grinned up at her, “You here for some mako, doll?” 

“Nah, this kid wants to see the boss. He says they are friends,” she said and motioned towards Denzel. “Maybe I’ll hit you up for some mako later tonight, though.”

The man with black hair grinned a mouth full of a thousand needles, and the lips were bleeding black goop outward, down the front of the man’s chest. A horrific slime. Denzel gasped, unable to stop the intense fear filling him even though he knew it was just the drugs making him see things. Things that weren’t real. But what had that other girl said? She said it makes you see the truth, and this guy was full of horror.

The man’s eyes flashed down to Denzel and the awful smile vanished. 

Run, Denzel’s brain told him. But nothing responded. Desperately, he thought of Marlene waiting in Corel or maybe in Kalm and he pictured that creepy attic room filled with flowers, and he commanded his legs to run back to them, but it was no good. 

“Well, if it isn’t the little spy!” Dax exclaimed, then turned his attention away for a second, “Thanks, Candi. I know exactly what to do with this kid. I think the boss will be very happy.” 

The safety of the woman’s presence vanished, and Denzel stood paralyzed, trapped under ribbons of terror. He had to force his teeth to stop chattering. 

“I wanna see Cloud,” he found himself somehow able to say, “She told me you could bring me to him.”

The man laughed and that needle grin came back. “Oh, don’t you worry. You will definitely see him.” But his tone meant something far more sinister. 

Behind the man, the shifting pattern of the wallpaper began bleeding out in thick red streams. Denzel swallowed hard and peeled his eyes away from the visions, but the panic in his chest was back at full steam and he desperately wished the girl with the green eyes would save him again. 

Then Dax stood. He was tall and skinny, with cropped dark hair and a jutting chin. Two shiny eyes were sunken against pale skin in his face, and the plastered smirk portrayed nothing but cruel intentions. Denzel fumbled to get his backpack open, to retrieve the switchblade within, to do something to defend himself against the monstrosity that would surely transform in front of him, but his hands were nonresponsive. Everything in him was sludge, and his feet were heavy rocks bolted to the floor. 

A rough hand bolted forward and grabbed Denzel tight by the collar. He choked and clawed to get free, but the grip did not release. The needle grin was right next to his face. 

“Come with me,” Dax hissed, though Denzel saw he didn’t have any choice in the matter at all as the man dragged him away from the room, away from the addicts and wallpaper and booths and music. The ground slid out from under him and he fell, skinning his knees on the hardwood floor, being pulled mercilessly onward.

Suddenly, there were more stairs. Dax hauled Denzel behind him, climbing up, and each stair hit painfully as Denzel twisted and writhed. Then halfway up, the man turned to Denzel, apparently fed up with his struggling, and smacked the boy hard across the face. Pain blossomed outward along Denzel’s cheek and jaw, and he opened and closed his jaw a few times against the radiating heat. Then the man hit him again, and Denzel felt his lip split open against his own teeth, warm blood dribbling down. 

The frantic pulse in his wrists was only accelerating and the stairs felt endless again as Dax resumed their climb. The sounds of the bar grew more distant, and the deep beat of the music faded away behind them. Soon there was nothing that remained of the bar and lounge, the arcade and the horrorshow. The walls were unpainted plaster lit by evenly spaced naked bulbs leading upwards. At the top of the stairs was another door, dark and menacing. Denzel couldn’t catch his breath. 

Dax opened the door and threw Denzel down. Cold tile greeted his face and palms. There was a drain in the center of the floor and nothing made sense. A window in the far wall looked out into the streets of Junon, but the wood frame of the pane seemed to be so distant. Denzel could never make it over there. 

The skinny assassin stood over him suddenly and punched him hard in the face. Brilliant pain exploded around his nose and warm blood gushed out fast, but the man kept hitting him again and again and soon he couldn’t feel anything except pure desperation. He tried to cry out for help, but nobody could hear him or at least nobody who cared. The man was relentless, and he kicked Denzel hard in the side as the boy tried to crawl away, halting any further efforts entirely.

Terror suffocated Denzel as he looked up and saw the pair of daggers sheathed at the man’s belt. Without a doubt this was the same guy he’d seen with Cloud that day in that basement. He was the one who’d wanted to kill Denzel, and now, Denzel supposed, he would. The taste of blood flowed over his lips, down his face, and the drugs in his head were riotous. Everything was chaos and pain in hot wet spikes. 

Then something heavy hit Denzel’s head. A blinding excruciating pain enveloped him then everything went white. Then red. Then black. And everything stopped.

* * *

Immense pain shook him awake. All at once, Denzel realized he was being dragged. The assassin had him by the collar and was pulling him through some sort of hallway in a building. A dirty splintered floor. And his arms were tied with scratchy ropes behind his back. But his head was pounding with an intensity he’d never felt before and when he tried to speak there was dried blood cracking on his lips. 

With a rough cough, he struggled but the guy holding him stopped and smacked him hard across the face which brought an assortment of colorful spots of pain ringing through Denzel’s head, so he decided to play along for now. 

They didn’t go very far, and Denzel surmised that he must’ve not been unconscious for very long because the drugs were still choking his brain, though it had diminished into a dim haze like watching the world through a series of mirrors. Then he heard the sound of heavy boots. Someone else was approaching. Denzel was thrown on the ground and didn’t dare move for fear of inadvertently causing another escalation of raw pain. 

“This is the spy, boss. The one I told you was watching us the other day.”

Boss? Denzel hazily glanced up at the boots. And a chill went through his legs, out his feet. They were Cloud’s boots. Which meant…

A rough hand picked him up by the collar again. The assassin held Denzel to his feet. 

“We should interrogate him,” Dax said, but the newcomer still hadn’t responded. 

Denzel’s heart fluttered crazily fast, skipping beats like a deaf drummer, and he was almost certain he would pass out. Nausea was curdling in his stomach and the blood sliding around in his mouth was choking. At last he lifted his eyes to the owner of the boots.

But when he looked up, it wasn’t Cloud at all but a horrific dark figure. One terrible black wing stretched down, enveloping its owner in shadow. Beneath the curve of feathers, a pair of glowing blue eyes stared into Denzel, immobilizing any thoughts of escape. Fright jumped cold through the boy. The rest of the world liquified into spiraling shades of gray, projecting outwards from the single wing, draining everything around them. Time ticked forward in slow slivers. 

Then the figure spoke. 

“I told you already, Dax. We don’t hurt kids. Let him go.” 

Denzel caught a breath. It was Cloud’s voice. Cloud. And he sounded annoyed. But that was impossible. 

Denzel blinked and looked up again at the dismal apparition, but everything in his vision was splintering apart in awful shifting pieces and it was difficult to focus. Denzel stared up into the shadow hard, willing himself to see past the mist of hallucinations. 

There he was, beneath it all. It was Cloud, except he looked awful. Sickly Mako eyes in ashy pale skin. Blonde hair a disorganized mess of spikes. And on his back was the massive weapon that Denzel surely had thought was a wing. As the remnants of Cloud emerged from the surreal vision, Denzel felt something in him break. The entire night was catching up to him and the very real pain in his face and shoulders were magnified by the unending intensity of the drugs swimming in his head. The image of death in front of him dissolved into the man he’d been seeking, desperately seeking, for the past two days — though truly it had to be longer than that, Denzel felt like Kalm was eons ago, a lifetime away even. All of it crumbled in front of him and crushed Denzel like a paper cup. 

He wanted nothing more than to curl into Cloud’s arms and wish everything away. He wanted something, anything, any sort of physical contact. A hug. Safety from the assassin and the nightmares of the bar somewhere in the past. Protection at last from the dreams of running, of watching Cloud wash blood from his hands, of Tifa never coming home. 

Everything caught up in a rush of adrenaline and pain, and he felt himself fading fast. Cloud turned away, and the shadow on his back followed. But Denzel couldn’t let him go, not after he’d done so much to find him. Not after he’d been so lost.

“W...wait…!” Denzel croaked softly, “Cloud!”

Cloud did not stop, but Denzel was struck with fierce determination and he didn’t care that tears were stinging his eyes and his throat hurt and his chest ached and his head pounded. 

“Cloud!” he screamed out, though it was only a rough raspy strain. “Cloud, please! Don’t go!” And then tears were all over his cheeks. It didn’t matter. Denzel had to get through to him. Marlene was counting on him doing something brave in this very moment. 

Against all odds, Cloud stopped. He turned slightly and looked back, but Denzel could barely see through the unwanted tears welling up and the dizziness swelling in him. The heavy boots came back towards him and he felt Cloud standing near again.

“I’ll handle this,” Cloud’s voice addressed the other assassin, “Go.”

The other man released Denzel, throwing him to the floor unceremoniously, then silently retreated back somewhere behind, down the hallway. Denzel gazed up at Cloud, at the billowing wing curling still over one shoulder and now he could see bleeding holes in Cloud’s chest, like gunshots. The drugs were not letting up and Denzel had to beg himself not to believe any of what he was seeing. 

“Don’t move…” Cloud said, and then he drew his sword. A small glimmer of fear rose in Denzel as the last time he’d been this close to that sword, it had been cutting through his arm, slicing open his flesh. 

Then the ropes were gone and pain rippled through the boy’s shoulders as his arms fell forward. He lay on the floor, unable to move, swallowing another mouthful of blood. Then, as if in a dream, he felt Cloud’s arms around him, lifting him up, holding him steady. Unable to support his own weight, Denzel fell forward in a dizzying rush, wrapping his arms around Cloud, hugging him tight, tighter than he thought he could manage. 

“Denzel…” Cloud spoke softly, but it was strained, like he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. 

“I found you…” The words fell from Denzel as if by accident, “I told Marlene I would…”

“Marlene?” Cloud pushed Denzel back and caught his eyes. “Is she here, too?”

Denzel shook his head, but the world shook with it, and he realized it was all fading fast. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. 

“I thought you might hurt me,” Denzel confessed in a hush, though that all seemed so damn silly now. Cloud was the very least likely thing in the city to hurt him, it seemed.

Cloud didn’t respond to this and instead picked up the boy in his arms like a child. Denzel’s limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move or care what was happening. His cheek pressed against the soft black fabric of Cloud’s shirt, and he just wanted to curl up and fall asleep. There was a splatter of blood on the dark fabric near Denzel’s eye, a sunken bullet hole, and he glanced up at Cloud in a daze. But it was no longer Cloud. The blurry shadow had once again resumed its presence fully, and for a brief second Denzel wondered if this was all a terrible mistake. A very bad idea. But that too faded away as the boy lost consciousness.


	8. The Scar

The ocean was vast and blue, stretching out into infinity. A pure unending beast. The sound of waves crashing against the shoreline somewhere below was a pleasant rhythmic noise. Smooth, cyclical, comforting. Beautiful, even. Denzel coughed. Sunlight threaded into his vision, slowly bringing him back into the world. 

The first thing Denzel noticed was that he was lying on a soft red couch looking out onto an endless sea through double pane windows that stretched from floor to ceiling in front of him. Rippling waves expanded far beneath the sky, and a rail of white clouds pulled back around the horizon, leaving a strip of blue to fend for itself against the vastness below. A gentle floral scent caught his nose and at the edge of his vision, he spotted a single white lily perched in a glass of water on the nearby end table. The smell momentarily reminded him of Marlene’s ghostly friend.

The second thing he noticed was that his injuries were gone, though the dried blood on his shirt corroborated a vague memory of the horrendous beating he’d received last night. Or however long ago that had been… Denzel cautiously sat up and looked around. He was in a very nice apartment, still in Junon judging by the ocean view, and it appeared to be early morning.

And the drugs… the horrible visions flashed into his head. All those monstrous terrible things he’d seen… Denzel caught his breath and held one hand to his head, as if to block it all out again. But the drugs were finally gone from his system. Everything in his vision was calm and normal.

Gazing around the room, he didn’t see any other signs of life. The entire place was very still and furnished with only the basics, though it was messy enough to suggest that someone else did indeed live there. Denzel stepped away from the couch very cautiously, as if waiting for the entire apartment to break apart like glass, and then his eyes fell on the sword lying sheathed on the table near the door. Cloud’s sword. It had to be. There was none other like it.

In a mad rush, the entire night reconstructed itself in his head instantly. The heavy rain, the woman with the red lips, the girl with the green eyes, the assassin with the twin daggers, and the slicing terror of the depths of the black doors. But Cloud had somehow been there, too. That’s right, he’d found Cloud last night and therefore this had to be Cloud’s apartment. It was the only logical explanation.

Trepidation crawled through Denzel like sludge. What if Cloud was still the same nightmare that he’d seen last night? Where the hell was Cloud even? Denzel noticed two closed doors across from the living room, but there were no sounds from within. Cloud must be out. And if he returned…? Not if, _when_.

Suddenly, Denzel wasn’t so sure of what he would say. There was a practiced script in his head that had dissolved into dust and now that reality had struck, it became very possible to Denzel that the Cloud who would undoubtedly walk through the front door at some point could in fact be the version from his nightmares. And Denzel was defenseless. Frantically, he tore through his backpack but the tiny switchblade seemed so miniscule and pointless. He also idly noticed that the rest of his lifestream pills were gone, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need them anymore. What he did need was a weapon, just in case the nightmare he’d seen really was the only Cloud left anymore. Maybe the man who’d once cared for him was long gone, lost inside that dark monster with the bullet holes in its chest. And his eyes fell back to the sword. 

He lightly stepped over to it. Yes, definitely Cloud’s now that he was up close to it, which meant last night wasn’t just some dream. It had actually happened and now he was alone in Cloud’s apartment. Breathe, he told himself, and think. Cloud would not have brought him here unless there was no harm to be done. He could have easily left Denzel at the hands of that killer, yet Denzel couldn’t shake the feeling of the hallucinogenic trip last night, and the drug-induced version of reality clung to his emotions tight, winding up irrational fears. 

He glanced back at the sword. The oversized weapon seemed so harmless alone like that. He put one hand out and touched the hilt. The metal was cold and the sudden thought of how many lives had been ended by it’s owner ran through Denzel even colder and he shivered. He’d never thought Cloud could be a ruthless killer, but that had been proven wrong already. And what about that day in Icicle Inn? What about Tifa…? No, he drew the line there. No matter what Cloud had said or not said that day, it was impossible that he could ever hurt her. Denzel remembered with faint disgust how attached the two had become during the time right before Cloud had gone. That all felt like a lifetime ago.

More importantly, before he’d left, Cloud had started training Denzel how to use a sword. He’d broken apart the smallest slice of his own weapon, this very one right here, and it had taken Denzel days just to hold the weight properly even though it was only a fraction of the thing that Cloud carried. Denzel’s eyes went over the sheathed blade, lying on its side. Somehow he’d thought that the weapon itself would look different, that it would have changed alongside everything else that had been so drastically altered. But it looked all the same, and the sudden flood of memories was difficult to staunch. Denzel took a breath and forced the thoughts away. The happy family in Edge was completely gone, and the blade he’d trained with was now just a part of this monstrous contraption that apparently served as a death sentence to many. 

Denzel kept his hand on the hilt and tugged, intending to remove a slice just in case he needed to defend himself, but the weapon didn’t budge. It remained firmly sheathed. Denzel tried again with both hands this time and was able to slowly remove the deadly steel. But the moment the end passed clear of the sheath, the weight of the whole thing fell right to the floor with a dull heavy thud. Denzel froze and glanced around, but nothing moved and nobody appeared. He stared down at the massive blade. 

“What are you doing?”

Denzel practically levitated off the ground in sudden fright and stood at once, backing away immediately towards the couch. Cloud stood in the doorway to the adjacent room behind him.

“I-I-I’m sorry!” Denzel squealed and fell backwards towards the couch, inwardly upset that he hadn’t heard Cloud approach at all. Either Cloud was very good at moving quietly, or Denzel was seriously lacking in his environmental awareness. 

Cloud sighed and picked up the weapon, mumbling something to himself then sheathed it and put it in the other room. Then he returned, closing the door behind him, and looked at Denzel. 

“So,” Cloud began, prompting Denzel to speak. 

Suddenly, the tidy prepared script in his head was gone. Everything he’d wanted to say to Cloud vanished in a flurry of nerves and evaporated anger. He’d hated Cloud so much in the past, been terrified of him since Yuffie rescued the boy in Icicle Inn, but when it all came down to it, when he was beaten and drugged and faced with the man himself, Denzel had simply collapsed into a crying baby. Ugh, Marlene would have laughed at him. But all that fear and anger was gone now, and the sensation of Cloud rescuing him from the clutches of the assassin with the needle grin surged fresh. The shadowy nightmare from last night was gone. Cloud just stood there, looking entirely normal, across from him in some crazy fancy apartment in the upper tier of the city. 

“Denzel, what are you doing in Junon?” Cloud asked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I...well, I mean, Marlene…” It was difficult to speak suddenly, so Denzel took a breath and tried again. “You missed her birthday.”

“I know,” Cloud replied without missing a beat, “So what are you doing here?”

“She wanted to see you for her birthday.” But it sounded so dumb, so silly.

Cloud glanced out towards the ocean and paused for a second before responding, “I think you know that’s not possible.”

“Cloud, I…” The prior night was still unraveling in his head. “What happened?”

“You passed out, and I brought you here and healed you.” Cloud studied him with a piercing gaze. 

“I...I saw awful things…” Denzel confessed, “I saw...a woman die. And there was a girl with angel wings. And…and I saw you but you were...there was....” It was hard to put it all into words. The memory of the thing clinging to Cloud’s back was difficult to focus on.

“You were on a hallucinogen,” Cloud replied as if just stating a fact, “I found it in your backpack. Whatever you saw wasn’t real.” Then he dropped his voice and looked straight at Denzel. “I hope you aren’t actually using again.”

Denzel shifted uncomfortably. “No, no I stopped taking mako a while ago. I just… I did something stupid. Trying to find you. I didn’t know it was LS when I took it.”

“You took drugs...to find me?” Now it sounded really _really_ stupid. Denzel squirmed. 

“No. I mean, the drugs...I tried to get information… You’re involved somehow, in the mako trade, aren’t you?” But Denzel had trouble piecing together the logic from his previous night.

Cloud barely moved, and he did not acknowledge Denzel’s question.

Slowly finding his fright dissipating, Denzel swallowed and remembered the man with the needle-teeth grinning at him. A fist punching him over and over. “That guy with the daggers...He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Cloud said with a nod, “but I wouldn’t have let him. I would never let anything happen to you, Denzel. I hope you know that.”

Except he had, of course. Denzel could practically feel the thin deep scar across his forearm burning to be mentioned, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask the startling question on what exactly had happened that day at Icicle Inn between them. What had happened to Cloud, specifically when he’d turned towards Denzel like an enemy. The fragments of everything he’d wanted to say to Cloud were falling apart quick in his head, and he wasn’t sure if it would even be right to bring up the past like that after Cloud had clearly saved his life last night. And furthermore, the demon he’d seen in his dreams and through the drugs was nowhere present now. Long gone.

“You must be hungry,” Cloud said suddenly, as if purposefully trying to change the subject. He stepped over to the kitchen then retrieved a take-out container from the fridge. Glancing around, he grabbed a utensil from the drying rack next to the sink, then handed the container over to Denzel. “Here, have some. Best take-out in town.”

Cold noodles. Denzel couldn’t deny that he actually hadn’t eaten in a while and so he eagerly took a bite. Delicious, actually. If nothing else, Junon at least had good take-out and he shoved more noodles in his mouth hungrily then paused as he realized Cloud was watching him. 

“Uh, aren’t you going to eat anything?” 

“No, I’m fine,” Cloud replied, then he began making coffee. As if this was just another morning routine. Denzel couldn’t believe the insane nightmare in his head was just a guy making coffee in a fancy apartment. He ran one finger along the scar on his arm and reminded himself how easily Cloud could transform into something horrific. Seemingly harmless now, but Denzel could see the scars on the man’s exposed arms that foretold plenty of violent encounters in which Cloud had been the victor.

“You aren’t staying here,” Cloud said definitively without looking up from the coffee pot, “I’m taking you back to Edge today.” 

“I don’t live there…”

Cloud blinked and met Denzel’s stare. A horrible moment passed between them as Cloud remembered exactly why he didn’t live there anymore, and Denzel swore he saw that exact same expression from that moment right before Cloud had told him Tifa wasn’t coming home. That sad, choking look of immeasurable pain. Then it was gone in an instant. 

“Right. Of course,” Cloud said with a nod, “Then I’ll take you back to...”

“Kalm,” Denzel corrected, then he couldn’t help himself from going on, “You have to stop in and say hi to Marlene. You have to stay, at least for a few days.” Denzel reminded himself again of the whole reason he’d agreed to come to Junon on this ridiculous quest. “She misses you and she says Aeris says you are a shade.”

He’d hoped a mention of the dead woman would break apart the thorny facade he was faced with, but Cloud didn’t even flinch and simply continued silently waiting for his coffee to brew.

Denzel went on, frustrated, “Why can’t I stay here? I don’t understand. What’s happened to you? You say I’m safe with you but then you want me to leave.”

“Because I can’t be with you all the time and if you stay here, then the only way you’ll be safe is if I’m actually with you. And even then...” Cloud sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Even then, I can’t be certain. These are dangerous times, and I’m involved in a lot now. I can’t have you with me.”

“Can’t I just stay for a little bit…?”

“No, Denzel.” There it was. The tone that meant he wouldn’t change his mind. 

“But -”

“No. End of discussion.” 

Denzel fell silent, sulking, and continued eating the rest of the noodles. For several long moments, neither of them spoke, and at length Cloud poured himself some coffee and then faced Denzel with mug in hand. 

“How are you feeling?” Cloud’s voice was much softer now, “Materia has been giving me trouble lately.”

But the boy was still sulking from the minor argument, though, and so didn’t respond right away. 

“I take it that means you’re fine,” Cloud concluded, visibly annoyed.

“You have to come home with me,” Denzel once again sparked to life with fresh arguement, “I… I need to make sure you come home. Marlene asked me to.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Just stop by and say hello to her at least!”

“Denzel, please,” Cloud said with a sigh.

“I don’t understand why you won’t.”

Cloud didn’t reply and took a very long sip of his coffee.

Denzel still had so many questions, though, and he needed to get through to Cloud for some answers, “At the very least, I need to know,” he iterated, putting down the now empty take-out container, “I need to know what happened to her. Tifa.”

There. He’d said it. And he looked boldly at Cloud, confident that he’d get some sort of reaction now. But no. Cloud only took another sip of coffee. 

“Please, Cloud,” Denzel’s voice was low and begging, “I...I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about when you came home and told me there’d been an accident. I can’t stop reliving that moment in my head each and every night. It’s like I’m trapped there, in that damn bar, always. I can’t sleep, I can’t focus on other things, I can’t stop it.”

This time Cloud did look over at Denzel yet still he said nothing, and Denzel felt all of the pain vividly in his head again. That crushing horrendous moment, watching Cloud wash his bloody hands…

And all at once he was back there. “I...I can’t do this, Cloud…” he felt himself falling apart again, “I can’t keep seeing it again and again. I need to know what happened to her. What really happened to her.”

“I already told you what happened, “ Cloud spoke carefully, as if tiptoeing around a rattlesnake.

“That’s bullshit,” Denzel snapped back fiercely, “I saw the look on your face that day. Something awful happened to her, but you wouldn’t tell me any of it.” And it would never stop. Denzel would never be released from that spot in the old bar. 

The blonde took a final sip from his mug, then placed it precisely down on the kitchen counter.

“Okay, Denzel,” he sighed, “Okay… You wanna know the truth?”

Denzel nodded. 

A coldness passed over Cloud’s face, then he spoke. 

“The truth is that I was asleep. While she was… I always thought I’d somehow be able to sense if she was ever in real danger. It sounds silly but I’d gotten it into my head that we were linked somehow like that. But when it all came down to it…” he stared into the empty bottom of the coffee mug, “When her life was ending, I hadn’t the faintest idea. She was being tortured by people I knew, barely a few blocks away from me, and all that time… The whole time, I had been asleep.” A terrible silence fell but only for a second before Cloud picked up and went on, “Fucking asleep. If my boss hadn’t called me, I would’ve just slept through the night and she would’ve died alone.”

Denzel sat, spellbound. Cloud had never used the word ‘torture’ to describe what happened to her ever before, and a kaleidoscope of horrific imagery assaulted Denzel’s mind. He could barely speak, and when he did it was a trembling whisper, “So, what did you...how did you get to her?”

Cloud went on, but his voice was distant and restrained, “I arrived too late. She’d already lost so much blood. I held her in my arms and then…” He lifted one hand and opened his fist, then let it drop.

The boy thought quickly, “But your boss…? Why was he calling you? Is that who hurt her? Is that who you killed?”

“Yes. He was responsible, but she came to me earlier that night, Denzel…” He broke off and exhaled heavily. Then he shook his head and stood. “I can’t spend any more time on this. I killed him for what he did to Tifa, but nothing makes her death easier.” His eyes flashed to Denzel. “I’m sorry.”

But the boy had been rendered temporarily speechless as he watched Cloud disappear into the other room then return with his sword and a sweatshirt.

“Let’s go,” Cloud said, approaching the door now. 

Denzel didn’t make any movement to follow, still caught up in the trenches of the story. The distant waves crashing along the lower tiers behind them, far below the windows, was almost a soothing sound in the silence. A lull. A constant reminder that the rest of the world was still ticking on no matter what transpired up here. 

“Let’s go, Denzel,” Cloud repeated, hand on the door.

But Denzel was lost in a trance. His mind still reeled around that word ‘torture’ and he stared over at Cloud standing in the doorway. How could Cloud do it? Just stand there and carry on his mission to bring Denzel home after relaying such a terrible memory? Denzel could barely breathe, could barely fathom the idea of traveling right now all the way back to Kalm. And how could he face Marlene knowing now that Tifa had been tortured to death? It was the worst realization, and he regretted pushing Cloud to tell him now. 

Denzel breathed out. But the calamity in his head was relaxing and when he thought of the sink at the back of the bar, when he remembered Cloud standing there with sullen eyes telling Denzel the worst news possible, he found he could move away from it in his head. He could let the memory pass. He knew the truth and it bonded him to Cloud somehow. They both shared that awful realization together now. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

“Denzel,” Cloud’s voice was growing tired, “Please. Just let me get you home.” 

The ocean crashed against the metal tiers behind them. Cloud’s expression was practically pleading with him, and Denzel found he wanted to stick with Cloud no matter what, even if that meant venturing out into the hostile city and eventually parting ways. But maybe Denzel could somehow prevent that from happening. Right now, though, he had no choice but to follow. 

They traveled together silently. Outside in the light rainy morning, Cloud merely pushed forward through the crowds and Denzel followed with little recourse, wearing the sweatshirt Cloud had offered to cover his bloody clothes. He tried to talk to Cloud at various points, to ask him questions, to beg him to stop walking so fast, but Cloud didn’t respond. The sun was climbing higher, and a dim warm light fell around them as they made their way towards the far end of the upper tier. 

“You’re putting me on an airship?” Denzel asked in disappointment once he saw where they were headed. 

“Yes, it’s faster.” 

That meant he had significantly less time to convince Cloud to join him in Kalm and furthermore, Cloud wouldn’t even be near Kalm at all. He’d been hoping that if he could somehow get Marlene to meet them, Cloud would have no choice but to stay for at least a few moments, and Denzel could show Marlene that he’d actually done the impossible and brought the man home. But now that did indeed seem impossible after all. Denzel’s half-stitched plan fell apart fast. 

As they rounded the next block, Denzel didn’t need to dwell on his failures for long, because it suddenly became apparent that something was very wrong. Despite the crowds of the shopping district, Denzel noticed that Cloud was particularly alert. He glanced all around, carefully progressing by each storefront, and finally towards the end of the block, Cloud paused at an alleyway and peered into the dingy deserted path. 

“Fuck.” The word fell from Cloud in a hurry, but before Denzel could process what it all meant, Cloud pushed him out of the way, and a sudden huge shuriken spun past his head. All at once, they were ambushed. Half a dozen men in masks rushed out from the alley, straight into the crowded streets, surrounding him and Cloud. In one swift motion, Cloud had his sword unsheathed, angled defensively and Denzel stood at his back, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. Then he remembered his dagger and withdrew it quick, despite his shaking palm. 

In a flash, the crowds rushed away in screams and chaos, and the masked men circled them fast. Denzel could hardly see as Cloud arced the sword in a crisp line, dismembering one of the assailants who fell to the ground in a puddle of blood and cries. Another man was on top of Denzel, but Cloud was right there, already blocked the man then cutting him apart in another movement. It was all happening fast, too fast for Denzel to keep up. Then a horrid stinging ripped across his arm as a shuriken flew past, catching his flesh as it sung past on its way towards Cloud. But Cloud deflected it easily and the weapon fell to the concrete. 

Another three masked men appeared from seemingly nowhere and the panic in Denzel’s chest escalated. Cloud took one look at Denzel then grabbed his arm and ran, dragging him along. 

Together, they ran at breakneck speed through the upper tier, back the way they’d come. Away from the airship zone. In the midst of the ruckus, Denzel suddenly realized his dagger was gone. The switchblade he’d carried everywhere had somehow dislodged itself from his hand at some point during the chaos. Cloud pulled him along, though, and Denzel found that they were heading down into the slums. Towards the lower tier, back in that area where he’d originally been nearly beat to death by the other assassin. 

“Cl-Cloud!” Denzel tried to yell to him, but he wasn’t listening or if he was, then he wasn’t paying any attention to Denzel. A heavy, lethal shuriken spun at him from the side, an angle that he hadn’t expected, and Cloud yanked Denzel behind him so suddenly that Denzel thought for sure his arm would be dislocated. 

In a hiss of steel, Cloud’s weapon was in front of them both, shielding from the spinning blades of another shuriken, which deflected off the side and fell to the ground at Denzel’s feet. Staring down at the massive lethal blades, Denzel briefly thought that maybe he could pick up the shuriken and somehow defend them both, but that quickly dissipated as Cloud once more grabbed Denzel’s hand and pulled him along. The assailants followed. Four were left by Denzel’s count, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. They reached a deadend somehow in the midst of the slums after all their running, and Denzel’s panic spiked hot, like a pot boiling over, but Cloud didn’t seem worried.

Cloud turned to face the attackers with the sword raised perfectly. He glanced down at Denzel behind him, who was holding one hand against the cut on the other arm, blood leaking over his fingers. Then Cloud quickly removed the lightest piece from his weapon, the smaller blade resting atop the others, nestled cozily near the hilt, then held it out towards Denzel. 

“Do you remember how to use this?” Cloud asked, handing over the blade to the teenager, but Denzel had no time to respond. The remaining masked men were approaching the dead end alley that they’d so foolishly driven themselves into. Except Cloud of course was no fool at all, and Denzel was almost certain this had been a deliberate choice.

The metal of the piece of Cloud’s sword was heavy as hell, but Denzel found he could still hold it in two hands, and the edge gleamed sharp and bright against the diminishing light of the cloudy skies. Then the masked men were on them, cutting and slashing with shurikens and katanas fast and relentless. Cloud moved fluidly in response, a practiced form of arc and descent. Denzel positioned his own weapon in front of him and reacted as best he could to a horrific blade swinging right towards him. Denzel side-stepped, holding the metal out, and the man’s weapon glanced harmlessly off the steel. The man charged again but Denzel was already lifting the weapon to counter in a sudden rush of adrenaline and absurd absolute panic. His blood pumped fast in waves of intensity, and from the corner of his eye he watched Cloud cut down the other opponents with seeming ease. Then the blade of his attacker dashed forward again and Denzel fell back, tripping over himself and landing in a pile of wet garbage. 

The man stood over him, grinning, when a spike of metal tore through his chest from behind, and Denzel watched an oval of blood gush downwards. The masked man fell with a dying scream, and then it was very very quiet except for the desperate gasps of breath from Denzel’s lungs. 

Cloud stood over him, sword coated in red, with the bodies of their assailants lying disassembled around them in the alley. 

“We need to go,” Cloud said between breaths, and Denzel recognized the cold intense look in those horrid blue eyes. It was the same vacant expression he’d seen in Icicle Inn. The same that had turned against him and cut his arm in a wave of unfamiliarity. Denzel jumped back at the sight. 

“Cloud?” Denzel could feel his voice going out, and the light mist in the air began to formulate into proper drops of rain. 

“Do you believe me now, Denzel?” Cloud asked and held one hand out towards the boy. 

Denzel took his arm and allowed Cloud to help him to his feet, then he caught his breath. 

“These...these guys were…?” But Denzel wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened. 

“From Wutai,” Cloud assessed, glancing down at one of the bodies, then he turned his attention back towards Denzel. “This is why you can’t stay with me. I need to sort something out.”

Cloud held his hand out. Denzel looked at him, unsure what he was doing then he understood and handed over the weapon. Cloud took it at once and seamlessly pressed the smaller blade back onto his weapon then sheathed it on his back. 

“Hmm, you were good,” Cloud remarked, “You held your own back there.”

The words of praise fell slightly hollow, though, as Denzel gazed down at the dead body slumped over near his feet. It made him feel all sorts of sick but also strangely elated. Part of him wanted Cloud’s approval so badly, the consequential damage from that desire didn’t matter for just a fleeting second. Cloud was already walking away though, back into the street. Denzel held back, uncertain how they could plainly leave corpses in an alleyway like this, but Cloud didn’t seem bothered by it. At all. After realizing that Cloud was indeed leaving, Denzel hurried after him, trying his best to forget that look of fear in that dead man’s eyes the moment the sword had cut into his abdomen from behind, through his organs. Spilling his life. 

In the streets again, a few people in the crowd glanced at them then quickly looked away and Denzel realized he had blood splattered on his clothes, too. Cloud was a formidable presence as he moved forward through the busy sidewalk, and Denzel had to step quickly to keep up. But they were no longer heading back towards the airship platforms. As the sun went higher in the sky, a deep golden shade of light broke through tiny spaces in the rain clouds above, casting an ominous spacing of shadows. 

Cloud was definitely on edge, glancing around at every street corner and occasionally holding one arm out close to Denzel, as though protecting him from something unseen. But Denzel didn’t notice any threats. In fact, the entire city seemed to be humming along as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

“Cloud? Where are we going?” Denzel asked finally, though he couldn’t recognize any part of the city, let alone guess a destination even if Cloud had told him.

But Cloud said nothing. They continued walking together, venturing deep into the slums of the lower tier, past the dilapidated office buildings and burned-out row homes. The rain wasn’t letting up and now Denzel was once again freezing. Eventually they approached a shady bar, situated in the heart of a very run-down block. The only other shops around were all-night low-cost convenience stores, a hardware store, another bar, and a few generic storefronts of questionable patronage. 

Cloud paused at the entrance to the bar and looked down at Denzel as if realizing he’d need to eventually explain something at some point. 

“Need to lay low for an hour or so, just until I can confirm they aren’t following us anymore,” Cloud said. 

“They? But aren’t those guys...dead?” Denzel still couldn’t follow what was happening. 

Without further words, Cloud pushed open the door of the bar and entered. It was immediately clear to Denzel that Cloud came here often because he didn’t hesitate at all and walked straight to the edge of the long bar, taking a seat at the end near the far wall. Denzel followed, glancing around as the few stubborn drunks nearby cautiously moved away, downing the last of their mugs before departing. They obviously did not want to get in Cloud’s way. Running a hand through his hair, Cloud caught his breath and pulled Denzel behind him. The boy sat on the nearest bar stool and watched as Cloud moved one hand to rest on the hilt on his back, a slow subtle movement, like someone itching a phantom limb. 

“Just take a moment,” he said to Denzel, “We’re safe here.” But Cloud did not relax.

And what the hell were they doing here? How could this even be happening? Denzel sat next to him in silence while he got his bearings and caught his breath. Finally, he said to Cloud, “Why did those guys attack us? What’s going on?”

“This is temporary. I’m still bringing you home to Kalm today. I wasn’t... “ Cloud dropped his voice considerably, “I wasn’t aware that Godo’s forces were in Junon, and I didn’t think they’d be looking for me this quickly. I need to make sure there aren’t any more of them. If any of them followed us, I’ll deal with them.”

Denzel suddenly realized that he’d somehow been marked just by being seen on the street with Cloud. Whatever was going on was serious shit and now Denzel was up to his eyes in it. But that wasn’t entirely important. He’d found Cloud and he had to bring the solitary man back to Marlene. Belated birthday gift, and all. 

“Cloud…” Denzel cleared his throat and tried to be brave, “I don’t know what’s going on right now.”

“This is exactly why you can’t stay,” Cloud snapped, locking his eyes on Denzel, but there was no time for Denzel to respond because the bartender stepped down to them and nodded at Cloud without any such alarm despite the immense tension that hung around the blonde like smoke at a fire. Denzel sat silently on the cushy bar stool, and the bartender placed two glasses of water in front of them as an automated gesture. 

“Boss,” he acknowledged Cloud, “What can I do for you? Wasn’t expecting you or any of your guys.” The older man eyed Denzel, sizing him up.

“Just stopping in for a moment. We won’t be long. Trying to lose a tail,” Cloud told the bartender. 

The bartender was a muscular man, but walked with a bit of a limp, and his body seemed rigid with the weight of years of hard labor. Maybe he was ex-ShinRa, Denzel thought, part of the old MP. Maybe he’d been stationed here in Junon for years before the decommissioning. Suddenly a whole delicious backstory was blossoming in Denzel’s head about how this guy had somehow come into Cloud’s service. The bartender noticed Denzel staring at him, and Denzel quickly looked down and simply held the glass of water in his hands. 

“Whatever you need, boss,” the bartender replied to Cloud.

“Has there been anyone in here, looking for me?” Cloud asked.

The older bartender smiled and waved one hand. “No, been quiet today. Nothing much going on around here.”

Denzel relaxed a bit at the friendly tone. Maybe it was possible Cloud wasn’t solely comprised of dangerous criminal dealings and outright killings in the street during daylight. Maybe he actually had a few decent people he could consider friends. Denzel’s hands were finally steadying so he took a big gulp of the water, not realizing just how thirsty he had been. The entire bar was now empty, except for the three of them. Apparently the other patrons realized it was not worth whatever trouble Cloud had brought. 

“I heard some crazy shit is going down in Wutai,” the bartender went on, like he was just making conversation, “Some of the guys are saying the military over there is cutting off the supply somehow.”

Cloud kept his eyes on the door. “No, just rumors.”

“Hm, well, that’s good to hear. Some guys can’t even make it through the day without mako.”

A chuckle came from Cloud. “Yeah, I believe that.”

There was a small awkward silence, and Denzel shifted his weight on the bar stool, taking another sip of water. Was it getting warmer in here? 

“Some of them are also saying that you aren’t doing enough to protect the supply,” the bartender went on, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he knew he was edging into dangerous waters. 

But Cloud didn’t seem to be fully listening. “I’m doing what I can, but Wutai is… There’s not much I can do against Godo.”

Suddenly, it snapped in Denzel’s head. Godo was such a familiar name but he couldn’t quite place it before. And now, like a ray of blinding sun, he remembered. That was Yuffie’s father. Which meant that Yuffie was likely involved in whatever mess had tracked Cloud down in Junon. Which also meant that of course Cloud wasn’t going to do anything against Yuffie, Denzel reasoned. Cloud and Yuffie had been friends, or at least some version of friendship did exist between the two at some point. 

Denzel stared at the bartender, feeling the pieces snap together in his head. But another feeling was coming into focus sharply now. A dull grinding pain in his stomach. And he was feeling warmer, teetering into uncomfortably hot territory. One glance at the other two men told him that he was the only one experiencing this, and so Denzel looked down, staring into his water glass, eager to hide his sudden ailment. Why was he always feeling sick at the worst possible moments? Then his throat began to feel tight. 

“...Denzel?” That was Cloud’s voice, full of concern. 

Dizziness was swallowing his head, though, and when he tried to turn back towards Cloud, the brightness of the windows against the opposite wall hurt his eyes and his face. Everything felt puffy and sore. Cloud took one look at Denzel and immediately turned to the bartender. 

“A detox. Do you have one?” Cloud’s voice was slightly frantic, bordering between distress and command. “This looks like poison. One of the attackers must’ve been using poison-tipped blades.” 

But the bartender didn’t move.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me?” Cloud’s voice raised and Denzel could hear the alarm cutting through. 

Denzel felt faint and he clutched at Cloud’s arm suddenly, terrible pain gnawing at his insides. Cloud held Denzel steady, but as the boy fought desperately to remain calm, he watched Cloud’s face transform in sudden harsh pain. He looked like someone had drained the color from his face, and he turned towards the bartender with eyes full of venom, standing and stumbling back a step, hand still on the hilt on his back.

“You…” Cloud’s voice was full of accusation at the other man as he drew the sword, “What… What did you do?”

The older man stepped away, well clear of Cloud’s reach and placed both hands on the counter behind him.

“They told me it would be fast-acting and painless,” he stated apologetically, “I’m sorry, boss. But they paid me well. Really well. More than this dump is worth. More than I could imagine.”

Denzel could barely see anymore, the searing pain in his belly was crawling around under his lungs and up into his throat, and his skin felt like it was stretching out, hot in the thick air. 

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” Cloud was saying, “I would’ve made sure you -”

But Denzel couldn’t hear any more. It seemed impossible that Cloud was even standing as the load of poison circulating through Denzel was positively overpowering him, shutting everything off in spikes of agony. Surely the same poison was coursing through Cloud’s veins, delivered through the seemingly innocuous water the bartender had offered.

Then the boy fell. The cold floor was suddenly at his head and everything went dark. A blinding, cramping sensation curled tight through his body right before he fell backwards into oblivion.


	9. The Turn

Denzel awoke with a start, gasping, adrenaline igniting, but then a hand was on his chest. A woman’s hand, calming him. 

“Denzel… Are you alright?” 

He blinked and the room came into focus. He was lying on a dark green blanket on a soft bed somewhere, but there were no windows, and the floor was concrete. It was a small space, maybe somewhere underground. And the woman… his eyes shifted over to her, sitting next to him on the bed, and he immediately smiled. 

“Yuffie!” he exhaled happily. He sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling all his panic disperse into a pool of relief as they hugged. 

“Denzel, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” she asked softly. 

The boy pulled away and sat silently for a second, trying to piece together what exactly had happened. He remembered running. He remembered a dead body in an alleyway… the poison from that bartender, hot and thick in his veins, dizzying, nauseating. Which also meant…

“Cloud!” Denzel bolted up from the bed fast, then regretted doing so as his blood failed to catch up with the sudden movement and his vision began to blacken. He paused, waiting for the sensation to pass. 

“Yes, Denzel. Did he hurt you?” Yuffie repeated, louder, standing next to Denzel now. 

But he wasn’t understanding. “What? No, we need to help him! These guys drugged us! I mean, it was at some bar and I think Cloud trusted this guy but then he gave us some sort of poison in water and I think Cloud’s been poisoned too! We have to help him! Do you know where he is?” The rapid need to take action held him fast, but when he glanced back at Yuffie, the older girl didn’t seem concerned. Not at all. 

“He needs our help,” Denzel reiterated, then moved toward the door, but Yuffie grabbed his arm and stopped him. He glanced back at her, confused. “Don’t you understand? Someone poisoned us!”

Yuffie’s face was very still, though. “I know, Denzel… And I’m very sorry. I had no idea you were with him. That should have never happened to you.”

It took a moment for the boy to fully grasp her meaning. “Wait, what? You… You are…” Then it clicked. Godo. The masked men. Cloud said they were from Wutai. And now Yuffie standing here. Denzel pulled his arm from her and stumbled back a step. “You poisoned him…”

Things were escalating much more rapidly in his head now, and he frantically looked around the room. “Where am I?” Denzel demanded, “Are we still in Junon? Where is Cloud?”

Yuffie sighed. “Denzel, what were you even doing with Cloud? Why are you in Junon? Last I saw you were in Kalm with Marlene and doing fine there.”

But everything was still frantic in his thoughts. “I was, but I had to get Cloud and bring him back. I had to do it for Marlene’s birthday. I’m supposed to!”

Yuffie scoffed and shook her head. “Have you forgotten what he did to you? Why would you ever, ever consider looking for him? Don’t you remember how scared you were that day, when I picked you up in Icicle Inn?” She almost seemed upset with the younger boy, and the details of that fateful afternoon soared fresh in his head suddenly. 

“I…” Denzel couldn’t place what he was feeling. He was scared, but also determined. He needed to show Marlene he could do this, and underneath it all, he had always been hoping he’d been wrong about Cloud. And finding him in Junon again had shown, if nothing else, that the man was not simply a cold empty killer. At least not all the time. There were still parts of the Cloud he remembered in there, maybe distilled into something else now but present nevertheless. 

“Denzel, things are so dangerous for you right now. I cannot believe you would do this,” Yuffie sounded completely disappointed in him, but Denzel didn’t want to let himself feel like a scolded child. 

“I was wrong, Yuffie,” Denzel spoke suddenly, “I was wrong about him.”

“You hate him, Denzel. You told me so yourself!”

“I was scared! I was a stupid little kid!”

“And now you are...what, exactly? I don’t think seeking out a drug lord in the slums of Junon counts as being smart.”

Denzel frowned and crossed his arms, feeling his face get hot. 

“Do you even know anything about Cloud anymore?” Yuffie went on, pressing. 

But Denzel couldn’t say that he did. All he had wanted to do was find the man and replace the phantom in his head with some sort of vestige of truth, and the fact was that a tiny part of him did hate Cloud. He’s always hate Cloud for that split second where Cloud had turned on him in Icicle Inn, in a morbid daze. That vacant expression. At the end of it all, however, deep in his heart, Denzel still desperately wanted things to go back to how they were years ago. In Edge. With Tifa and Cloud and Marlene. And when he saw Cloud again, at the end of that dreadful hallway while Denzel lay bloodied and beaten, and when Cloud picked him up and held him close, Denzel had wanted nothing more in the world than to hold onto that Cloud forever. A stupid little kid’s dream, maybe. But it was undeniable. And now he was involved in something far worse than Cloud lost in a daze or Marlene crying on her birthday or a dead junkie in an abandoned building. Yuffie and Cloud were on opposite ends of something very serious. The drug trade. Maybe. Denzel still couldn’t be sure. 

“I just…” Denzel’s words fell apart and Yuffie’s stern face softened a little bit. 

“Cloud is fine, if that’s what you need to know,” she said, “And you’ll stay here until we can secure a safe flight for you back to Kalm. I’m sure Elmyra is worried sick.”

“You won’t tell her, right?!” Denzel perked up, suddenly horrified at the thought of making Elmyra upset too. “Please, she’ll be so angry with me!”

“I’ll make sure you get to Kalm safely, but whatever you say to Elmyra is up to you,” Yuffie said with a slight wave of her hand, “I’m not getting involved with that.”

Denzel relaxed slightly and finally caught his breath. “...Where am I?” he asked. 

Yuffie put her hands on her hips. “Junon. We established a safehouse near the outskirts on the east side.”

“...We?”

“My father’s military. I’m in charge of the anti-mako operations in Wutai, and we’ve...gained knowledge of Junon’s involvement so we setup a small unit here.”

Denzel blinked. “But...it’s Cloud. Cloud is the involvement. What are you going to do to him? You...you poisoned him so you could…?”

Now Yuffie crossed her arms and her usual jovial look fell away. “He won’t be harmed. I’ll ask my father for that much, but he’s somehow become… a key player in all of this. And we need him removed. Nobody can get close to him, so poison seemed like a-”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Denzel suddenly snapped at her. “You’re talking about poisoning Cloud!”

This was all so absurd and Denzel found his words still catching in his throat and mouth. 

“I never, ever, meant to harm you,” Yuffie continued, “I had no idea you were with him. The guy we paid to poison Cloud must’ve thought you were an associate.”

“A what?”

“An assassin. He usually runs around with a few.”

“...What?!”

Yuffie rolled her eyes, seemingly annoyed that the task of explaining everything awful had somehow fallen to her. “Cloud is an assassin. He runs a ring of hired mercenaries. People pay him to kill other people, and his reputation in Junon is beyond scary. He’s involved with the mako trade now, too, as a sort of ….” she paused, looking for the right word, “...a figurehead. There’s something really wrong with him, and I think it all escalated after Tifa’s death.”

People pay him to kill other people. Denzel thought about Yuffie’s words hard and remembered when he’d first seen Cloud in Junon, at that cafe. A frightened woman had spoken to Cloud, had given him an envelope. Was it possible she was paying for a hit? And then Cloud had killed that other man in the basement of that abandoned building. That he definitely knew was real. Cloud had been talking about mako and about a contract. Fuck. Denzel exhaled as it all fell into place in his head. Yuffie must be right. 

But there was also the other Cloud that he knew. The one who had literally saved his life after his horrific episode with LS. The terrifying winged phantom that had sheltered him from the assassin with needle-teeth. The guy who had made sure he was safe, who had fed him take-out and protected him when Godo’s men had attacked.

Frustrated and helpless, Denzel tried to counter, “No, no, you’re wrong. It’s still him. Even if he’s involved in bad things, he’s still a good guy.”

Yuffie shrugged. “Suit yourself, Denzel. Tell whatever stories you like in your head. But right now, Cloud is dangerous and you need to stay away from him. I’m calling you an airship as soon as it’s safe, then you are going back to Kalm.” She stepped towards the door, then looked back at the boy. “Are you sure you’re okay? The poison, I mean. It was an incredibly potent strain. Between the Jenova and the Mako, I had to make sure it would work on him.”

He paused to take stock of his physical health. Yes, he felt relatively fine now. She must’ve used a detox on him. He nodded slightly, then asked, “Am I … stuck here? Are you holding me here?”

Yuffie laughed apologetically. “No, no, of course not! You can leave whenever, but I think you should stay until we can call the airship to take you home. Junon is not a safe place, after all, so I’d prefer you stay here. For now.”

Denzel nodded. He did still feel a little bit sick, now that his nerves were calming down. A little nausea slipping around inside his stomach. Cautiously, he sat back down on the bed. 

“I’ll come back to check on you in a little bit, kiddo,” Yuffie said, “Bring you some food, too. I gotta go take care of something else, but don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

She gave him a sad sort of smile, like her mind was already on her next task, then she departed. The door creaked shut behind her and Denzel was left alone in the small bare space. He leaned back against the pillow, exhausted from the conversation, head spinning with everything Yuffie had told him. She’d never lied to him in the past, so he had no reason to doubt any of it, but it felt...off. Her and Cloud being at such odds that she would literally poison him… everything felt wrong. It was just another piece of the solid, happy past drifting away into this horrible chaotic future he’d found himself wrapped up in somehow.

But there was no way to get things to go back to how they were, Denzel knew. Wishing things were any other way was silly and would get him nowhere. Right now, he had to make a choice, and no matter what, Cloud had saved his life. He’d been stupid enough to come to Junon in some insane wish to prove his bravery to his surrogate kid sister, and Cloud had rescued him. It was Denzel’s fault that Cloud had even been going that particular way on the street, towards the airship landing zone when those other men attacked, and it was Denzel’s fault that Cloud went into the bar. He had been protecting Denzel.

“...Shit,” Denzel sighed and tugged at his hair with one hand. If he went back to Kalm now, he’d expressly be letting Cloud down, and at the end of it all, Cloud was the only other family he still had left, aside from Marlene.

After momentarily contemplating the alternative for a few helpless moments, Denzel got up from the bed and carefully approached the door. He pressed his ear to the metal, but there were no sounds from outside. Nothing at all. Cautiously, he tested the doorknob. Unlocked. As Yuffie had said. 

Slowly, he opened the door and peered into the hallway. A long narrow path stretched in either direction, sleek metal and tiled floors like maybe some sort of unused hospital facility in total disrepair. Most of Junon had ruins of one kind or another once the ShinRa money left, so it seemed likely that he was indeed still in Junon. Also as Yuffie had said. 

Tiptoeing down the hall, he kept expecting to be halted by strange masked men at any moment, but the few that he saw did absolutely nothing to him. Didn’t even acknowledge his presence. They stepped lightly past him in silence, and Denzel wandered forward through the hallways searching for… well, he wasn’t sure exactly what. Yuffie had mentioned that they were underground, so he needed to find stairs surely.

Then, at the end of the hall, one of the metal doors was open and very clearly laying across a table in what appeared to be a miscellaneous storage room, was Cloud’s sword. Denzel froze when he saw it and his heart dropped. Cloud was nearby. Had to be. At least in the same building. Quickly, he glanced around but the hallway was empty around him. Then he heard a sound. A shout. A woman yelling angrily. It sounded like Yuffie. He cocked his head slightly, trying to determine the origin of the noise. 

Across from him was a stairwell leading down. The woman’s voice was echoing from down there. Then it stopped. Denzel gulped and moved forward, cautiously. Slowly. The stairwell was partly tile and linoleum, dimly lit by a trail of fluorescent lights overhead. He clutched the metal handrail and descended. At the bottom, he leaned forward and examined the next corridor. It was identical to the one above, except at the far end stood Yuffie with her hands on her hips, looking extremely pissed off at a pair of men wearing all black. 

“I told you not to hurt him,” she hissed at them and threw her hands up, “He’s under my protection, and my father will decide how we deal with him. Not you.”

Immediately Denzel shirked back as Yuffie turned away from the two men. He heard her footsteps retreat along the next corridor and she angrily mumbled to herself. Peering around the corner, he saw that the two men were now gone as well. The corridor was entirely empty, but Denzel remained hidden in the stairwell for several more moments to ensure Yuffie wouldn’t return. He didn’t need to fear her, but she surely would not want him exploring the lower levels like this. He may be free to leave, but likely not free to do anything else. 

After he was certain nobody would return, Denzel stepped forward, sneaking down the hall towards the end where Yuffie had stood. There were several doors ajar along the way, but when Denzel peeked into each, they held nothing of interest. Finally he reached the door that Yuffie had been standing near. It had a deadbolt on the outside, a recent addition from the looks of it. Sliding the deadbolt open, he very carefully turned the doorknob, and the door swung open. 

At first it looked like just another half-empty abandoned hospital room, with stacks of wire shelving and papers everywhere. Then Denzel saw him. 

Cloud was lying on the ground, facing away from the door, with hands restrained behind his back. Motionless. Fresh panic spiked in Denzel’s chest and his hands began trembling. Shit, get a hold of yourself, he prayed. Cloud lay very still, and Denzel worried that the man was unconscious or worse. He tiptoed into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. 

“Come back to apologize?” Cloud’s voice nearly scared Denzel half to death, then the boy let out a sigh of relief and rushed forward. 

“Cloud!” Denzel rounded quickly in front of him then fell back a step, not entirely prepared to see Cloud’s face bruised and his bottom lip bleeding. Denzel paused, taking in the sight. In the past, he’d thought he’d wanted to hurt Cloud himself, he’d held so much hatred towards the man. The one who’d generated countless nightmares. But those feelings only had the intensity of an adolescent foolishness, and actually seeing Cloud hurt like this did nothing but scare him. Suddenly, he only wanted to help Cloud, and all those stupid prior wishes in his head vanished like a frightened flock of geese. 

“Oh. Denzel.” Cloud gazed up at him in genuine surprise, but his voice was still soft and low. “I thought you were… Yuffie didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“What? No, why would she?” but he gave Cloud no time to answer that, “I’m fine. I’m here to get you home.”

Cloud laughed, a short hollow sound, then he spat some blood to the floor. “This again. I’m not going back to Kalm with you.”

“I can’t leave you here,” Denzel said, but when he examined the restraints he found they were thick woven mythril. No way he could untie them. He’d need to cut them off, but as his eyes frantically scoped the room, it was clear there was absolutely nothing that could help him. Of course they wouldn’t keep Cloud in a room with sharp objects, Denzel chided himself for thinking so carelessly. 

“Go home, Denzel,” Cloud said weakly, “This is already too much for you. You shouldn’t be here…”

“Your swords!” The idea hit him. “I saw them before! I can bring them and cut you free!”

“No, Denzel... “ Cloud coughed and more blood came from his mouth, then he swallowed and looked up at the boy. “Please just leave. I can handle whatever happens here. Things are fine. Yuffie and I are… just having a disagreement at the moment.”

A lethal disagreement, Denzel wanted to say, but his mind was tripping around itself trying to remember exactly which room the swords had been in. Upstairs, for sure. Denzel stood. 

“I’ll be right back,” Denzel replied then made for the door. 

“Wait,” Cloud called to him. Denzel paused obediently. “You can’t carry the whole thing,” Cloud said, “Do you remember how to remove the two near the center of the base? The smaller ones?” 

Denzel didn’t want to remind Cloud that he’d actually never shown him how to do that explicitly. When they were training together, Cloud would always remove one of the lightest pieces and hand it over. Denzel was never allowed to touch the entire assembly. Too dangerous, was always the reason, though Denzel couldn’t understand why. It’s not like he would cut himself, or anything. He wasn’t that careless. 

“No…” Denzel answered, but suddenly there was noise in the hallway. Loud footsteps. Someone was approaching. He needed to go and fast! Without looking back at Cloud, Denzel opened the door and slid out then replaced the deadbolt. Then he ran across the hall to a vacant room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him so as to make it look as though nothing were misplaced.

A handful of men walked past, talking quietly amongst themselves, but they didn’t pause at Denzel’s door or even glance his way. They were, however, distinctly discussing Godo. The old man was arriving very soon, one of them said, and Denzel realized he was now running against the clock. No matter what Yuffie had said, Denzel wasn’t so sure Godo would be agreeable to letting Cloud live, if the stories about him were even half true. The footsteps receded, so Denzel slipped back into the hallway, momentarily catching his breath and straightening his mind to prepare for what he would need to do next. 

Upstairs. Slowly — carefully! — and then back along the hall. Where was that open door? The storage room. There, at the next corner. The door still gaped open and the sword was untouched in its sheath. Luckily, Denzel hadn’t run into anyone else. He shut the storage room door, then stood in front of the massive weapon. 

Cloud takes this apart all the time, he reminded himself. There must be a way to remove the lighter piece that he’d used in the past. He leaned over it and examined the hilt. Nothing there. Nothing obvious anyways. With both hands he held the hilt and pulled. The steel slid out, bluish under the buzzing lights, and once the blade cleared the sheath, his eyes fell on the assembly just above the hilt, a confusing mess of parts cleanly fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. And how was that second hilt buried? There were several hilts nestled in there, but Denzel still couldn’t see how to release any of them. They all seemed completely inaccessible, yet Cloud often withdrew them in quick succession, so there was a trick, some mechanism Denzel was overlooking. He reexamined the hilt, but it looked entirely ordinary. Shit, figure it out, he commanded silently.

Then there was another sound in the hallway, a sudden commotion. A few men were talking loudly to each other as they rushed past. Apparently, Godo had arrived in Junon and would be here shortly. Denzel’s panic escalated. Fuck it, he would just drag the whole sword back to Cloud then Cloud could just tell him how to release the other blades. That would take less time than anything else at this point. Denzel gripped the hilt, intending to slide the blade back into its sheath, but it was heavy and as he struggled his hands slipped, twisting the handle. 

And the entire sword popped open. Like a claw expanding its grasp, the hilt locked into some sort of secondary position which propped the assembly up and slightly apart, allowing completely unobstructed access to the multitude of things within. Denzel blinked, trying to figure out exactly how he had done it, then immediately grabbed for one of the two smaller weapons resting along the others. The new blade slid up and out with little resistance, then Denzel flipped forward the hilt of it like he’d seen Cloud do and immediately, he was armed. A smile spread across his face at the victory, and he left the rest of the sword lying on the table, then rushed back towards Cloud.

Slinking along the hallway and back downstairs, he had to hide two more times to avoid detection on the lower level before approaching once again the room where Cloud was being held. The piece of Cloud’s sword in his hands felt powerful, like he’d solved some great mystery and now had the badge to prove it. He opened the door, ready to cut Cloud free, but he was met with a terrible surprise. 

Cloud was gone. The rest of the room looked untouched, except for a smattering of blood drops around the space where he’d been laying. 

“No…” Helplessness once more choked the boy. “No, that can’t be.”

But it was, and now Denzel was filled with utter dread at the thought that Cloud was in even greater danger somewhere else. Backing into the hallway, he glanced all around looking for some sort of clue, anything to point to where Cloud had been taken. There was nothing, though. The halls remained empty. Denzel wasn’t about to give up. He still had Cloud’s sword and now if anyone stopped him it would be extremely difficult to explain away his intentions, so he figured he might as well keep going at this point. At the very least, he needed to find Yuffie again and beg her to let Cloud go, and if he found Cloud, he’d just keep trying to convince him to come home to Kalm. Swallowing his panic, Denzel continued down the hall, away from the stairs, towards where he’d seen Yuffie disappear before. 

As he rounded the corner, however, there were two masked men standing guard near a pair of doors along one wall. Seemed to be some sort of entry to another wing or maybe towards an operating room in its previous life. Either way, the two men immediately spotted Denzel. 

“Hey, kid! You can’t be down here,” one of them shouted.

“Who the hell is that?” the other asked his companion.

“I don’t know, but we have orders,” the first replied. 

Denzel held the sword tighter, but immeasurable fear was once again creeping over him. Almost unbearable.

“Get back upstairs, kid,” the second one menaced and drew a katana from the sheath low on his back. “Don’t be stupid.”

Suddenly, the other man’s phone buzzed once in his pocket. 

“Shit,” he sighed and withdrew the phone, glancing down at the incoming message. “Godo is here. I need to get upstairs.”

“Go, I’ll deal with this kid.”

With a nod, the other man departed further down the corridor and disappeared around the corner. The man with the katana glared at Denzel. 

“Get the fuck out of here, kid. Are you deaf?” 

Closer and closer, he stepped towards Denzel, but the boy didn’t move. Denzel held Cloud’s sword out at the proper offensive angle as best he could remember and forced his arms to stop shaking. 

The man in black was within reach now, lowering his katana and extending one arm out towards Denzel, towards the hilt that Denzel clutched tight, about to grab it clean away. Time moved slowly. The boy was paralyzed, entirely unsure what to do or how to react. He was certain of only one thing. There was no way anyone was going to take Cloud’s weapon away from him. 

In a flash, Denzel tensed his muscles and stepped forward, cutting towards the outstretched arm. Faint resistance echoed through the shaft as the blade hit bone then severed the man’s arm clean off in one single nearly effortless slice. The man screamed. Anger transformed his face into violence. Blood poured from the stump, and Denzel breathed out, amazed at how incredibly easy the weapon had cut through skin and bone. Like the man was made of nothing at all. 

Already, the katana was coming up, swiping through the air, and Denzel fell back a step, bringing the sword up in defense. The two blades sung off each other and the man struck again, though it was clear his missing arm was completely destroying his ability to properly use the katana. It sliced past Denzel as the boy continued moving away, still trapped in the slow space of time, watching each millisecond pass as a series of tiny moments and movements. 

The sight of blood gushing from the wound made Denzel ill, and suddenly the wall was behind him and he was trapped. Shit! Don’t panic, his mind raced. The man clutched his damaged arm against his stomach and raised the katana. In that instant, Denzel snagged the faintest piece of bravery within himself and ran with it. He shoved Cloud’s sword forward, into the space above the man’s stomach, right as the katana was coming down, and it buried deep into the man’s chest with a horrific crunch. Blood slid immediately down towards the handle, but Denzel couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to let go. The katana hadn’t stopped, however, despite its owner being impaled, but the muscle behind the attack was suddenly unresponsive and the blade fell onto Denzel, cutting superficially across his left shoulder in a sharp sting. 

All at once, the man fell and his body slid from the sword in Denzel’s hands. Blood was everywhere. All over his shirt and shoes. His hands. Denzel suddenly couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think. Run, his body told him. 

And he obeyed. Without a second to spare, he took off running in a random direction just to get as far from the dying man as possible. Just to get away from the terrible thing he’d done. It was an accident, he told himself. He never meant to kill him! How would he explain this to Yuffie? She’d definitely be upset. More than upset. She’d be downright furious, or worse… frightened.

A loud bang broke through his thoughts and Denzel halted, skidding to a stop in the center of another hallway. This place was like a maze or maybe it was because Denzel couldn’t think straight that he was running in circles, but regardless he froze at the sound coming from around the corner. Footsteps. 

Exhaling, Denzel raised the sword again. The footsteps were running, approaching fast. This is it, Denzel knew he’d been caught. He’d never be able to explain the blood and then they’d kill him for sure. As vengeance. Isn’t that how these things worked? 

Tensed for the worst, Denzel glanced around the corner, sword held tight, ready to face whatever monster greeted him. Three other men, all wearing black, all holding sharp weapons were coming towards him. The sight of the boy with the bloodied sword caused them momentary pause, but Denzel didn’t want to wait and find out how they would treat him. Once again, he ran, lungs burning with short rapid gasps. 

Along the halls he kept going, hearing the train of footsteps behind him. The shouts from the other men seemed to only be getting closer no matter how hard he pushed his legs forward. Surely they would hurt him, or even kill him. Denzel pushed through some double doors, desperately rushing without direction or awareness, then he turned another corner and his heart sank. 

Everything in him despaired. He had reached a dead end. There was nowhere to go. No doors, no windows. It was just nothing. He’d somehow managed to get himself completely cornered.


	10. Hide and Seek

The dead end was some sort of small cafe space, with a counter along one wall and room for a handful of tables. Scattered remnants of furniture and papers lay strewn in piles.

Denzel hid behind the counter, tucking his legs under to make himself as small as humanly possible. The sword he placed at his feet, but he would not let it go. Everything in him shook and he rested his head on his knees, completely out of sight from the door, and then just listened.

Footsteps came in. The three men. They spoke in hushed tones to each other, clearly unsure if Denzel had come this way, but Denzel couldn't make out any specific words through the blood pumping loud in his ears. He hugged his knees and prayed to the flower ghost in the attic. He prayed that she would somehow save him or at the very least tell Marlene that he'd done his best to bring Cloud home. That he'd gotten this far all on his own and that he was sorry he couldn't give her what she wanted. Then the men's voices became quieter. They seemed to be moving around the room. It was only a matter of time before one of them checked behind the counter and spotted Denzel. He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the hilt of Cloud's sword like it was all he had left in the world. He stayed just like that, motionless. The image of the man's arm lying amputated in a puddle of red kept circling Denzel's head. The man he had killed. It was horrifying. How easy it had been. Life wasn't very difficult to end, and Denzel knew that, but somehow feeling it firsthand, through the steel…

"Found ya!" The voice was right on top of him. Leaning over the counter above him!

A hand shot out, reaching for his collar. Denzel shrieked and bolted, stumbling over himself as he tore towards the door, feeling the hot pursuit of the man behind him. Where had the other two gone? He didn't know but he couldn't stop.

He just kept running, his heart and his mind focused on only one thing—propelling forward, getting away. But the maze of the hospital only grew more dense. With each turn, Denzel felt more and more confused. The decay of the walls was getting worse, paint peeling off in huge areas, exposing drab concrete beneath, and the cracked tile flooring was even more uneven the further he went. But the shouts of the men in pursuit were coming from all directions now. They were closing in. It was only a matter of time.

Denzel stopped short as he encountered two massive double doors leading into a darkened wing. Within was pitch black, and his lungs hurt. His stomach ached. The muscles in his thighs wanted to give up. Then a particular thought struck him.

There's no way out. He'd done the worst thing imaginable, kill another human being, and now he was being pursued, punished. Yuffie would never forgive him. Elmyra would be so disappointed. And Marlene...would she be scared of him now? What if he simply never told her? Could he even keep any of this a secret?

The sounds of fast footsteps got louder, and something in Denzel's chest was breaking down. He stifled a cry. Tears are for babies, he reminded himself. Then his eyes fell on Cloud's sword in his hands.

This was it, he reflected. There's no way out. No point to just continue running. He had to face whatever was coming to him.

So he stood firm, angled the heavy sword offensively as best he could, nudged the back of his heel against the double-doors behind him just in case he changed his mind and wanted to make a quick exit. Then he waited, slowing his breath and steadying his heartbeat. The attackers were getting close. Denzel shut his eyes, imagined the attic room full of the scent of flowers. No doubt he'd join her soon, but maybe that was the best way for things now. He couldn't face anyone ever again, knowing the mess he'd inadvertently made. Nobody would understand.

Well, nobody except Cloud.

"There you are!" a cold voice erupted from down the hall.

Denzel opened his eyes and set his gaze on one man in black, katana in hand, who had evidently been faster than the others. He wasn't out of breath at all, and a terrible grin stretched across his face.

"You really don't know what you've done, kid," the man said with a small laugh, pulling his mask over his face. "And I'm afraid now it's…"

Denzel couldn't fight the trembles overtaking his body. He was planted firmly to the floor but his muscles shook. The sword in his hands felt lighter, though. And the fog of uncertainty in his brain was clearing. He would fight and, very possibly, he would die. It was almost a relief once the decision was made.

But the attacker had paused mid-step and the arrogant tone had trailed off. Denzel watched as the man's eyes went to something else. Something behind Denzel.

The door at the boy's heel opened. The outward push of cold air within the adjacent corridor glided over Denzel's shoulders like an embrace. There was someone there. His chest ached with defeat. He'd been cut-off. The attackers had somehow gotten in front of him and now…

Except the masked man did not look happy. In fact, he looked horrified. His eyes above the mask were wide and confused, uncertain, afraid. Denzel finally took in a breath and peeked over his shoulder, ready to swing the sword around to the new threat.

Cloud stood in the darkness, covered in flecks of blood, eerily still with those piercing eyes focused on the masked man. He was a picture of imminent death, and Denzel remembered finding this same person poised on the cusp of violence back when they still lived together in Icicle Inn. This person he'd ran in horror from, the day Denzel had been nearly killed by this very sword.

Now Denzel wanted to jump. He wanted to shout in overwhelming joy and rush into Cloud's arms because he knew, he just _knew_ , that Cloud was there to rescue him from the despair that had flooded his body moments ago. But before Denzel could embrace the blonde, Cloud swiftly redirected Denzel's weight, positioned the boy safely behind him, then removed the sword from Denzel's hands effortlessly in one single motion.

All at once, Cloud was armed, Denzel was not, and the masked man was shortly cut in half as Cloud moved forward in perfectly fluid steps. The sword arced through the air without hesitation. The corpse fell after a halting scream. And blood was everywhere. Denzel hardly had time to process what had happened.

Then he blinked and exhaled.

"Cloud!" He felt like crying, he was so happy.

Denzel threw his arms around Cloud, but Cloud didn't hug him back. In fact, Cloud took Denzel by the shoulder with one hand and pushed the boy away roughly. Another one of Denzel's pursuer had just turned the corner, and the sword in Cloud's hands caught the attacker's blade seconds before it would have made contact.

Instantly, Cloud stepped towards the assailant, one hand still holding Denzel behind him, the other positioned with the blade. The two clashed steel again then Cloud swiftly stabbed forward, striking the man fatally through the chest. In a sputtering mess, the man fell and Cloud backed away, catching his breath, then released Denzel.

Denzel stared wide-eyed at the fresh corpse.

"What are you still doing here?" Cloud asked him suddenly.

"I...I…" but he couldn't stop staring at the bodies split open in front of him. It was sickening.

"The sword," Cloud continued, "Where is the rest of it?"

"Up….up…." Denzel couldn't speak, everything was colliding in his head in bright red patterns across a tiled floor. "Upstairs!"

A shout down the hall echoed, and Denzel suddenly remembered the others who had been looking for him, and surely there were even more by now. But wait, how was Cloud even here? Denzel was about to ask, but Cloud had his head cocked to one side like he was listening intently so Denzel decided to stay silent. Especially because the yells of their opponents were getting closer.

"This way. Let's go," Cloud said and began walking back towards the way Denzel had run from. "Stay close to me."

Denzel had no chance to reply, though it seemed they were actually heading towards the noise instead of away from it, and he hurried to catch up, remaining exactly one step behind Cloud. At the edge of the next corridor, Cloud suddenly halted and motioned for Denzel to stay quiet. There were more opponents approaching. Denzel could hear them, they were so close, but Cloud didn't look worried. Or scared. Or even tired. Denzel was panicking as the footsteps drew even closer, but Cloud remained motionless, pressed against the wall, sword held loosely in one hand.

Just as the two other men rounded the corner, Cloud waited exactly one second until they saw him before attacking. In a blur of metal, the sword moved twice, cutting down each man quickly, quietly. The bodies fell, blood pooling. So much of it. Everywhere. All over. Denzel's feet felt nailed to the floor, and he looked up at Cloud, at the red spatter across the other man's hands and everything around him starting sinking. His heart was pounding, racing like it was the end of the world, and clear intense dread filled him. Paralyzed him.

"Denzel, let's go," Cloud's voice was saying, but Denzel couldn't stop staring at the blood. He couldn't move, his heart and head were spinning and sinking all at once. The walls were growing distant and cold fear ran through his veins, immobilizing him.

"This...this is so fucked," Denzel blurted out. "This is all so fucked! What the hell is even going on? Yuffie poisoned us and her father wants you dead and I stabbed some guy and cut off his fucking arm and-and-and this is so completely fucked!" He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even think. His lungs felt like they were collapsing.

"Denzel, stop."

But everything was catching up. He felt dizzy and fell backwards against the wall, cold against his hand, but nothing was getting better. A pit in his stomach curled and churned, and all at once Denzel felt nauseous. This must be what death feels like surely, because his brain couldn't contemplate ever feeling anything else aside from this sheer absolute terror. Consuming him. Destroying him.

Then suddenly, Cloud was in his vision, blocking the sight of the bodies, blue eyes focused directly on him.

"Denzel, look at me," Cloud's voice was right there, softer, and he felt Cloud's hand on his shoulder. "Look at me…"

He obeyed, forcing his eyes onto Cloud's. And there he was. Those awfully creepy dim Mako eyes were peering into Denzel, steadying him, holding him from spiraling, falling.

"Breathe." It was a request, not a command, and Cloud was so calm. So completely unaffected by the horrors around them. Even, possibly, happy about them. Denzel breathed out.

"Good. Now listen carefully," Cloud continued, his eyes still locked on Denzel. "You're doing just fine. You're fine. You're safe. I will protect you." Cloud nodded and Denzel felt himself nodding too. "Just keep breathing."

And his heart was slowing, barely.

"I will protect you," Cloud repeated, eyes searching back and forth between Denzel's. "Right now, I need you to keep it together for me. Okay? I need you to keep going. We need to get out of here, and I need you to be brave."

Brave? A distant memory moved in his head. Marlene.

Cloud kept talking, quietly, evenly, "Can you do this for me? Can you help me out here?"

Denzel found himself nodding, breathing. The world was calming down around him. The dizzying despair was floating upward instead of pinning him to the floor.

"Good." Cloud smiled at him, and it was such a little pleasant thing amidst the insane bloodshed that Denzel actually did begin to feel better. Cloud continued, "Okay, so I'm going to go upstairs and get the rest of my sword. Then we are both leaving. You just need to stay behind me and keep breathing. Okay?"

Denzel nodded again, and the world was once more in focus. Cloud stood and took Denzel's hand. Denzel would normally never allow that since he certainly wasn't a baby who needed his hand held, but at that exact moment, he didn't mind. Not at all. It was like an anchor holding him to reality. They walked down the hall and once they were clear of the bodies, Cloud released Denzel's hand and fell into a faster pace slightly ahead of the boy.

They reached the stairs without further interruption and upon ascending, Cloud held back in the stairwell and peered out into the halls first before motioning for Denzel to follow.

Where? Cloud mouthed the word. Denzel pointed towards the storage room.

Inside, the weapon still lay, splayed open and missing a tooth. Cloud picked it up and put the sheath onto his back, then turned back to Denzel.

"Are you hanging in there?" he asked quietly, once more carefully staring at Denzel.

This time Denzel found his voice. "Y-yeah. All good. I'm fine. Sorry about before. I just felt...helpless." He didn't mean to sound so pathetic; the words just fell from him.

Cloud gazed down for a moment, in contemplation, then he held out the small blade. The one Denzel had been using.

"Now you won't feel helpless. You can defend yourself. Just in case," Cloud said, but he didn't elaborate in case of what exactly, though Denzel could guess. "I don't exactly know where we are or how many people Godo has from his military hidden away in here, so it's better if we're both armed."

Something distant was ringing in Denzel's head, like an alarm. He still didn't understand what was going on and suddenly the fact that Cloud didn't know much either raised a dozen red flags. This was all very wrong. And it was possible suddenly that Denzel was actually on the wrong side of things. Because Cloud maybe wasn't the victim here.

"I don't understand," Denzel stated, taking the sword from Cloud, "Why does Yuffie want to hurt you?"

"She doesn't," he replied without hesitation.

"...Then why did she poison you?"

He sighed. "It's complicated. Her father is re-militarizing Wutai, and they think mako is the cause of the uprise in violence, so Yuffie is leading some sort of task force to destroy the mako suppliers."

Denzel nodded as though all of that made sense, but… "So you're involved with the mako supply?"

"Kinda. Not really. I told you, it's complicated. But listen, Yuffie won't hurt me and I won't hurt her. And that's that. The rest of Godo's military is… not as friendly as she is, apparently."

"Yeah, they are trying to kill you."

Cloud paused, as if holding back something he wanted to say. Then he just shook his head and motioned that they should leave. "C'mon. Let's mosey."

Not waiting for Denzel, Cloud opened the door and once more crept into the hall. Distant sounds of shouts and commotion were emanating from behind them, back towards the stairwell. Apparently the deceased men had been discovered.

"We're out of time," Cloud remarked, also hearing the distress, then he took off running and Denzel immediately followed.

The maze of hospital corridors felt hypnotic as Denzel anxiously tagged along behind Cloud. Now reunited with the piece of Cloud's weapon, he was once again in control of the terror threatening his chest, and suddenly following Cloud around felt perfectly natural. They ran into three more of Godo's military men, but Cloud easily dispatched them and Denzel held the sword perfectly in front of him and breathed. Everything would be alright. Cloud would surely have to go back to Kalm with him now, if nothing else just to hide until they could talk some sense into Yuffie.

"There." Cloud pointed to the right behind a crumbling pile of filing cabinets. "Stairs up."

They climbed three sets of stairs before emerging into what looked like the main entry floor of the hospital wing, an area with rows of decaying stretchers and discarded medical equipment. It was mildly horrifying to imagine the ShinRa military here in the past, lying in beds with broken bones or Wutain poison circulating through them. He'd read about the Wutai conflict in his school books.

Through this room and another of similar size, they finally found the dismal waiting area and, at last, the doors leading outside. Denzel could see dark clouds out in the sky. Definitely still in Junon, he thought dryly.

"Cloud!" A new sudden voice made Denzel jump.

Yuffie stepped from a shadowed doorway near the exit. Cloud instantly moved in front of Denzel. She was unarmed, mask hanging down around her neck, dark hair held back in a new bandana. Sleek black armor in flexible plates covered her clothing now. All trace of the friendly demeanor she'd used with Denzel was gone.

"Cloud, stop this!" she called to him in a disapproving tone, "Don't drag Denzel along anymore!"

"This was his choice, not mine," Cloud replied, and Denzel noticed Cloud was relaxing his grip ever so slightly on the sword, which was a very bad sign. He'd seen Cloud doing the same thing right before slashing apart those men downstairs. "I told him to go home."

Yuffie took one look at Denzel, then laughed. "Oh come on, he's holding a piece of your sword, Cloud. Doesn't take a scientist to figure out how that happened. Stop lying and let him go!"

"I'm fine!" Denzel felt compelled to shout suddenly.

"Oh great, now the kid's delusional," Yuffie continued talking only to Cloud.

She stepped towards them and Cloud stepped back, keeping a good distance between them.

"Where is my materia, Yuffie?"

She laughed again, this time slightly more genuine. "Is that a joke?"

Cloud glared at her. "Give me back my materia. I had one in my pocket."

"Yeah, a crappy one." She rolled her eyes. "I'm doing you a favor by keeping it."

"Yuffie… I'm not playing this game with you. If you want to keep whatever else you took from me that's fine, but give me back the restore," Cloud's voice was cold and stern but bordered almost on a plea. Just barely.

"This awful thing?" She withdrew the green orb from her pocket, "Cloud, it's not even mastered. I'm upset about this."

"No, you're stalling for time. Give it back to me now and let us leave."

"Go get a new one."

"No, I want that one."

"Why?"

Cloud didn't respond.

Yuffie huffed, "I'm not stupid enough to give you back anything."

This time Cloud's voice fell lower, and he really did beg, "Please, Yuffie. You don't understand…I'm not going to use it."

Slowly, she circled around them and Cloud circled back the other way, still maintaining a distance, but then she stopped, blocking the door.

"Denzel," her eyes went to the boy, "You can go."

But Denzel didn't dare move. The sword in his hands felt glued to this spot, this place, right next to Cloud, and he wanted nothing more than to stand there and do whatever he could to help Cloud.

"Denzel, come on, this is silly," Yuffie went on.

"Like I said," Cloud cut in, "His choice."

Yuffie sighed. "I can't let you walk out of here, Cloud. You know what's at stake here. We both do." A tentative glance went over to Denzel.

But Cloud didn't flinch. "That doesn't matter to me. I have other things to take care of now. You know that."

"I only want to help you," then her voice broke off in a little exhausted chuckle, "We...we used to be friends, Cloud. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does," Cloud replied instantly, obviously, "If it didn't I would have already left."

It took Denzel a minute to catch his meaning, and judging by the look on Yuffie's face, she'd understood too.

"I…" she fell into a seriousness Denzel had never seen, "My father will tear this city apart, and I can't have you lost in this. I can't lose you like we did Tifa."

"You won't." Cloud inched forward, looking at the door behind her, completely unaffected by her solemnity.

Yuffie squeezed her eye shut for just a second and frowned, then she exhaled. "Damn it, Cloud. Don't make me do something stupid."

But nobody moved.

"You aren't even armed, Yuffie. Enough of this. Just let us walk out already," Cloud said as though it were all quite simple. A straightforward solution.

"Please," Denzel begged, moreso because he couldn't stand the idea of them fighting. He'd seen them argue plenty of times in the past, back at the bar in Edge, but this was far too real for comfort.

Yuffie glared at Cloud with eyes full of such intensity that Denzel was sure she would somehow produce her mighty lethal shuriken and attack them both. But she didn't. Nor did Cloud move, though the sword was still positioned to strike.

Then carefully, Cloud stepped forward. "I'm walking out this door, Yuffie."

"Don't you dare…."

As he approached, he kept the sword angled between them like a barrier and his eyes locked on hers. Denzel followed, exactly one step behind, but kept nervously looking back behind them at the empty corridor, expecting at any minute for Godo and a fresh batch of troops to materialize.

"Cloud…" Yuffie continued warning, an edge creeping into her voice, as Cloud stepped closer to the door. The sword was almost touching her yet still she wouldn't move.

But Cloud continued forward, stepped around her very slowly, then he sheathed the weapon directly in front of her just as it was about to graze her skin, and she audibly gasped.

"That's not funny, you jerk," she sneered.

Now Cloud was at the large glass doors behind her and waved for Denzel to follow.

"Yuffie, please convince your father that I'm not the enemy here," Cloud implored her, one hand on the door.

"If you walk out that door," she replied dolefully, "I can't protect you anymore."

He sighed, a long sad sound, then he pushed the door open to leave. A gust of cold air swept into the stale room.

"Wait, Cloud!" Yuffie suddenly cried, and Cloud halted.

The room was deathly quiet for a handful of seconds and Denzel wondered if this was where they'd find out it was a trap or something awful like that, but there was nothing. Yuffie just stood there morosely, examining Cloud like a child whose favorite toy had been broken. Finally, she walked over to him and held her hand out, palm open. Within was one materia. A smooth green orb.

"I don't want this crappy thing anyway," she remarked.

Cloud took the materia from her, and then he smiled. "Thank you, Yuffie. This is…" but he didn't finish his thought. He pocketed the materia then pushed open the door and walked out.

"You must really love him," Yuffie said to Denzel as the boy stepped by, "To follow him everywhere like that."

Denzel didn't know what to say. It wasn't true. He didn't _love_ anyone. That was the sorta thing that only existed in movies.

"Just be careful, Denzel," Yuffie continued softly, "Don't forget who was there for you that day when he wasn't."

He nodded at her and tried to pass by, but her arm darted out and grabbed his. Thin cold fingers pressed into his wrist.

"And I'm still here for you now," she iterated, holding him tightly.

He shrugged her off and held her stare for a moment. Then he quickly followed Cloud outside.


	11. The Other Side

Cloud was already partly down the street in the cool evening air. Looking around, Denzel saw they were in the slums, as evidenced by the multitude of rundown storefronts and residences along the city block where the hospital had once stood proudly. Now the sign out front was nothing but a rusty ShinRa logo. A misty rain hung in the air and distant dark clouds rumbled over the ocean beyond the buildings. There were a few pedestrians out, walking briskly by, not paying much attention at all to the two emerging from the abandoned hospital.

The sky was an eerie yellowish shade, much more ominous than the typical storms in the region. And they weren’t free of danger, that much was certain. Cloud kept glancing back towards the hospital, and Denzel realized he still had dribbles of blood on his shirt and shoes, his hands. Now he understood why Cloud always wore black. It made him slightly sick.

“I...I…” Denzel wanted to say something to Cloud, though he had no idea what to pick from the whirlwind of questions and thoughts in his head. 

But Cloud snapped back before Denzel could finish, voice low, “You should’ve listened to me. You should’ve gone home when I told you to.”

The sudden harsh tone hurt, and any previous strength deflated instantly in Denzel’s chest. “But...But I-”

“Do you have any idea how badly you could’ve gotten hurt?” Cloud continued walking ahead of Denzel, but it was clear he was angry. 

“But I didn’t.”

“Yeah, because we just happened to run into each other. If I hadn’t found you…” Cloud let out a breath, “We were both lucky.”

Denzel wanted to say more, to defend himself, that he’d done the right thing because they were both alive together, and wasn’t that more important than the _possibility_ of a different past? But Cloud halted abruptly at the corner of the next block and Denzel nearly walked right into him. 

“Wait,” Cloud said, and his tone had resumed its usual pitch, anger gone. After taking one look around the corner, he immediately said to Denzel, in the same even voice, “You need to hide. Right now.”

“What? Why?” Denzel still held Cloud’s sword and felt temporarily fearless.

“Just do it, Denzel. Don’t argue.” But Denzel didn’t want to leave his side. He fidgeted from one foot to another for a few seconds, not ready to commit to either decision to stay or go, before Cloud sighed and said, “I won’t leave you. Please just…” Cloud glanced around, “Just go hide behind that car down the block.” He pointed down to a rusty sedan parked in the neglected street, then he peered back around the corner. “Go now, and do not come out until I tell you.”

Denzel begrudgingly complied and ran down the street, then huddled behind the rear wheels of the parked car. From this vantage point, he could see Cloud plainly yet nobody paid any attention to him. Apparently in this part of town, everyone kept their business to themselves and a teenager crouching behind a car meant absolutely nothing. 

Then, Cloud stepped into the street casually, as though he were simply passing by this way as he would do any day, when four men turned the corner. They recognized Cloud and he them, but it was friendly. They were pals. Denzel stared at the man at the front of the group. It was the same guy with short black hair and two daggers. The one who had nearly killed Denzel. The one who had beaten him and dragged him to Cloud, literally. Anger bit his heart as he saw Cloud talking to this man. Did his treatment of Denzel mean nothing? But Cloud had told him to stay here, and so… Denzel watched. 

The four of them talked, and after a brief moment it became clear Cloud was upset with the man in front, the one with the daggers. A cruel joy spun in Denzel’s heart as he watched the man’s expression flatten and his posture drop into one of subservience. It was amazing the type of power that Cloud held. Within seconds, the four stood with heads bowed, listening without interruption as Cloud gestured back towards the hospital. Though Denzel couldn’t hear any words, he could tell that Cloud was in complete control over these men. And somehow it thrilled Denzel. He wanted to be in that same position, too, wielding authority over dangerous people, especially the man with the daggers who’d hurt him so badly. Though at what cost that type of power had been to Cloud, Denzel had some idea. Still, Denzel wished for just one moment that he could be there beside Cloud, watching the man with the daggers frown and bow his head. Punishment for causing Denzel so much pain.

Then something caught his eye. A blur of dark in the shadowed rooftops. There were second and third-story balconies projecting from the tiered sides of the buildings on either side of the street, and although the shops below were long shuttered and abandoned, Denzel was sure he’d seen a person up there to his right, in the building directly across from him. Someone moving quickly.

Denzel went further down the block to get a better view, cautious not to draw any attention to himself, though he did catch Cloud’s eye, who glared at him for a moment before resuming focus on the subordinates. Then Denzel saw it again. A movement of black clothing, a masked face. Denzel’s adrenaline kicked up. It was one of Yuffie’s assassins, a trooper from her father’s new squad, just like the ones he’d seen in the hospital! 

He had to warn Cloud, but just as he was about to throw off all regard for Cloud’s wishes and bolt forward with fresh alarm, the rest of the street came alive. Suddenly, there were six other assailants descending directly onto Cloud and his associates. Everything happened fast. 

There was bright steel unsheathed and thrown shurikens and utter chaos. Any passer-byers in the street quickly fled the vicinity. Denzel was frozen to the spot with Cloud’s sword useless in his hands. He caught Cloud’s eyes once more and the look on the blonde’s face was demanding Denzel to run and hide. Clearly, this was an ambush spilling from the pursuit within the hospital and Cloud did not want Denzel involved.

So Denzel looked up. Despite the fighting below, the masked figure hadn’t moved from the balcony and now Denzel saw the person was working something with their hands, assembling some object. A gun. A sniper! Denzel looked back at Cloud, who had dismembered two attackers and was deflecting a slash from a third, but nobody else had noticed the person above. 

Without thinking, Denzel went into action. He ran to the base of the building, careful to evade any full view of the balcony, then he proceeded to climb. Normally, he would’ve first evaluated the situation, found a suitable path, then gone up, but the shouts in the street and the idea of the person above completing their awful task burned into Denzel, igniting an urgency he didn’t know could exist. He wasn’t running away from something for once; he was running straight towards it, knowing that if he didn’t get there in time, Cloud could be hurt. 

Haphazardly placing the sword through his belt on his back so it trailed behind him like a tucked wing, he climbed a dumpster, jumped onto the top of the shuttered grate of the storefront, then onto the first awning and upwards onto the balcony. He moved softly, as quiet as possible, aware of every little noise his feet and hands made. He steadied his breath and climbed the edge of the next balcony, hoisting himself up just as the person in black was steadying the scope of a deadly rifle towards the massacre below, precisely looking, Denzel was sure, at one certain blonde. 

It was a miracle he wasn’t heard as he slipped onto other side of the railing, roughly ten paces behind the sniper. Crouching low, he approached, pulling the sword from its temporary sheath, which had, Denzel noticed, nearly sliced the back of his shirt apart.

The man was aiming down, engrossed in his craft, and Denzel breathed out. He felt strangely calm, and the sword was light and comfortable in his hands. He needed to do this, he told himself, moving closer. He had to stop this guy from shooting his gun. He had to protect Cloud in any way he could. 

Then… BLAM! The gun went off, quick and controlled. 

“No!” Denzel screamed. He was too late! He’d taken too much time! 

His body reacted, rushing forward, swinging the blade with intent to kill. He’d never felt so energized towards one single purpose in his life. He’d always been running and hiding, but now this feeling was the exact opposite. The sword was powerful, an extension of willpower, and it engulfed Denzel completely. 

The sniper turned in surprise at the boy, brought the gun around, decided there wasn’t enough time to reload, and retrieved a long serrated knife from his belt instead. He parried Denzel’s first swing and kicked the boy away. Denzel fell against the rail of the balcony and saw the street below. With one glance down, everything crumbled into cold hard rage. 

Cloud lay on the sidewalk in a pool of blood, shot through the chest, motionless. In that second, Denzel felt the world break. It had finally happened. He’d lost his parents, he’d lost Tifa, he’d lost his home in Edge, he’d lost everything. He’d lost Cloud. It crushed him, and it became an intensity of sharp desire he’d never felt before. 

He was going to kill the gunman.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, hot and rapid, but he didn’t care. He propelled himself from the railing, holding Cloud’s sword like it was all he had left in the world, and he slashed at the sniper again and again. At each step, the knife met his steel but Denzel kept going. His muscles didn’t stop. He struck again, over and over, feeling all the loss and pain of his world suffocating him and all he could do to get out was scream and kill the man responsible for Cloud’s death. 

At last the sword connected with the sniper’s flesh, cutting through bone as Denzel sliced off the man’s hand. Then he cut open the man’s chest. Then his throat. Then his face. Denzel cut him apart until there was nothing but blood and guts and gore everywhere. The smell of it made him sick. Denzel fell back and threw up, crying and coughing and finally breathing. He leaned against the rail, eyes on the remains of the sniper while he got a hold of himself and wiped the tears from his face. He sheathed the sword again and climbed back down to streetlevel, much faster than he’d gone up, eager to get to Cloud’s side. 

“Get the fuck away from him!” Denzel yelled. A small crowd had gathered, and the man with the twin daggers was crouched over Cloud in the center. “Get away!” Denzel repeated, waving the sword in his hands like a madman. The people dispersed, deciding Denzel simply wasn’t worth the trouble, until only the man with the daggers remained. 

Denzel barely took note of the other dead in the street. All of the masked assailants and most of Cloud’s associates were now crumpled husks. It had been a bloodbath. 

“So you’re the kid,” the tall thin man said to Denzel, and the memory of that needle grin in the club lit up in Denzel’s head with a burst of fear, but Denzel shoved him aside. Somehow the fear wasn’t as great this time. All the other emotions stirring in him had drowned it out. 

Denzel dropped to his knees by Cloud’s side. There was so much blood, Denzel couldn’t tell exactly where the bullet had struck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to-

“D...Dax…” Cloud muttered the single syllable, interrupting Denzel’s thoughts and the boy’s heart soared. 

“Cloud!” He smiled and dropped the sword. “Cloud, you’re alive!”

Two slivers of light blue opened. Cloud looked up at Denzel and his expression changed. 

“Denzel… Oh…”

Denzel hugged Cloud, tears falling freely once more, an expanding thankfulness lifting the weight of his pain clear into the sky. He felt like laughing, he was so happy. He’d actually gotten what he’d wanted! For the first time in a long time, he felt whole, at peace. And he profusely thanked the flower ghost in the attic, whether or not she had anything to do with it. In his head, there’d been a divine intervention of some kind, and he was just so grateful that it had happened to him. To Cloud. 

Everything would be okay now. 

“Dax…” Cloud rolled to his side and pushed himself up with one arm. Denzel tried to help him, but Cloud motioned him gently away. “Dax, we’re running out of time.”

Then Denzel realized he was speaking to the man with the daggers. The man with the needle grin, whose name was Dax. But the joy of Cloud not being dead eclipsed any minor jealousy or irritation he felt at the name. 

“Yes, boss,” the other said with a bow. “The hospital…”

“Godo is there. Or was.” Cloud painfully sat up. His voice was a thin wheeze, and blood leaked through the wound in his chest. Denzel wasn’t sure how the hell he was even still breathing, nevertheless moving and speaking. “Tell the others. And do not hurt Godo’s daughter. Do you understand?” Cloud pointed up at Dax in exhaustion. Denzel noticed how incredibly pale Cloud’s skin was.

“Yes, sir.”

“She is under my protection, and I want to deal with her myself. Do not harm her,” Cloud reiterated, then he sighed and waved Dax away. “Go.”

“But, boss-”

“I’m fine. I can take care of myself. Go!” The stern tone in Cloud’s voice projected his superior place in the order of things here, and Denzel watched Dax obey without further question. The lethal assassin with the daggers vanished up the next block, and Denzel was left alone with Cloud, half-dead and bleeding in the street, and a number of gory corpses. It was like a scene out of a movie, Denzel thought. 

Once Dax was out of sight, Cloud steadied his gaze on Denzel, but he said nothing. He looked terribly sick, and the blood soaking down his chest was not coagulating. 

“Shit, Cloud,” Denzel breathed out, “You’re...you’re really hurt.” Everything was becoming surreal. 

“The balcony…” Cloud painfully motioned upwards. “Was that you? Did you finish that last guy?”

Sweat covered Cloud’s face but his eyes were steady, pressing. Denzel felt nervous for some reason, like he’d been caught getting involved in something he should’ve have. Then he pushed the thought aside. No, he’d done the right thing. If only he’d been faster Cloud wouldn’t even be this hurt… 

“Yes,” Denzel said with a minor nod. “Yes, I… I got him. But are you… Are you going to be okay?” He’d never actually seen Cloud this hurt before, or at least not up close like this. 

Cloud actually laughed, a single lonely sound. “You wouldn’t believe how many times…” but he didn’t complete that thought and instead withdrew a materia from his pocket, the restore that Yuffie had returned to him, the one that he’d been so keen on getting back. In barely seconds, he activated the materia and a swirl of green vapor trailed over his chest and neck, around his shoulders, and the bleeding stopped. 

But the healing wasn’t complete. The red rejuvenated skin still looked raw, and Cloud began coughing horrendously. Denzel let go of him as Cloud doubled over in pain, still coughing and choking for several long moments. 

“...Cloud?” Denzel wasn’t sure what had happened. Had the materia somehow failed?

Then it was over. Cloud recovered and stood as if nothing had happened. 

“Are you okay…?” Denzel asked cautiously. He couldn’t afford to lose Cloud to anything, not after coming so close to death like that. 

Cloud gave him a strange glance like he was trying to decide exactly how much truth to tell. “Materia makes me sick,” he said simply, “...I don’t really know why. Sometimes I think it’s because of the mako.”

“Mako? Like from Soldier?”

“The street drug mako. The one I told you to quit.”

“Oh.” Denzel quickly put it together in his head. “You were… an addict, weren’t you?” He remembered those weeks where Cloud had been sick when they were in Icicle Inn. Withdrawal, no doubt. But he’d eventually gotten clean, or so Denzel thought.

“Yeah,” Cloud said, bending to retrieve his sword, “I was.” It was such a casual confirmation that Denzel wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Then Cloud nodded like their conversation was over. “We need to get going.”

Denzel thought about pressing the matter and forcing Cloud to give him more info, about the mako, about his sickness, but it didn’t seem worth it. Cloud had just been at the brink of death and was being actively pursued by a group of men who, apparently, didn’t appreciate the drug trade expanding into Wutai from Junon and so they were hunting down those responsible. Which meant Cloud, or so Denzel thought. He felt he’d reasonably gotten the story right so far, but honestly none of it felt important. After the rollercoaster of emotions he’d just ran through in less than ten minutes, he really only cared that Cloud was alive and okay. Nothing else could matter as much. 

“...Right,” Denzel finally said, “Okay.”

Cloud was already moving on, and Denzel followed.

Yet again they were leaving behind a city street of dead bodies. Denzel really couldn’t understand how these things could just be considered okay. Surely there was some sort of peacekeeping presence in Junon? But Denzel never saw anyone of the sort and it was very possible that Cloud’s syndicate of assassins and mako dealers was the actual de facto law. And so they walked away, out of the slums. Above them, the yellow sky was darkening still, despite it being only midday. The mist in the air was beginning to form substantial droplets.

“This is why I can’t go back to Kalm with you,” Cloud said suddenly as they walked through the rain.

“But if you’re sick, then you need to definitely see Marlene. She misses you. If you never came back, she would be so sad. She has these nightmares about you, Cloud.”

But this only made Cloud frown. “I wasn’t talking about the mako.”

“Oh.” Denzel felt stupid. “Yuffie, you mean. Godo.”

Cloud nodded. “It seems he’s intent on destroying my city. As you saw, his forces have no problems attacking publically in broad daylight.”

Denzel wasn’t sure of the intricacies and surely there was much more going on than he was aware, but he figured there must be a way that Cloud could get out of this. “Just come home. Hide in Kalm and maybe Yuffie can just tell him you are dead,” he suggested. 

“No. It’s more than that, Denzel.”

They had reached the edge of the commercial district on the upper tier and the streets had steadily gotten nicer, cleaner, and definitely more populated. Self-consciously, Denzel folded his arms over his sweatshirt, trying to hide the proof of their terrible encounters during the last few hours. 

“So what are you going to do about Yuffie?” the boy asked as they walked.

Cloud didn’t reply right away, and when he did, it wasn’t about Yuffie at all. “Godo’s military is organized, but they aren’t very skilled it seems. I’m not sure yet, but I’ll need to somehow push them out of Junon.”

“What about the WRO?” Denzel replied, “Can’t Reeve’s forces help you?”

It looked like Cloud wanted to laugh. “The WRO is backing Godo, supposedly, and I doubt Reeve would want anything to do with me right now.”

Stupid suggestion, Denzel wanted to kick himself. Then Cloud halted as if remembering something and held his hand out to Denzel. The boy stared up at him in confusion. 

“Sword,” Cloud requested, palm open. “Please.”

“Oh, right.” Denzel handed it over, embarrassed for a moment that he’d actually forgotten it wasn’t his. It had felt so natural, easy, powerful, in his hands. But he gave it up without question. Cloud returned it to the others on his hilt and sheathed the weapon.

They meandered forward through the crowds of the shopping district together, once more falling into silence. Denzel still had so many questions, thoughts, comments, but Cloud was walking with clear intent on getting to their destination as quickly as possible and so Denzel decided to just wait until they got to wherever they were going because it was very possible that the streets were no longer safe. At all. And stopping would probably be a bad idea. 

But this all seemed insane. The fact that merely days ago he’d been dreading the sheer idea of being near Cloud ever again struck Denzel as pure fiction now as he strolled through the dreary afternoon alongside the man. Those intense feelings of fear and hatred he’d held for so long had evaporated like fog in sunlight the moment he’d seen Cloud fall in the street below, bullet in his chest, and the truth was that he _enjoyed_ being with Cloud, and maybe those silly moments of anger he’d had in the past were nothing more than automatic superficial barriers, just stray extensions of his grief over Tifa, his blame of Cloud. No matter what happened in Icicle Inn, deep down he’d always secretly held onto the smallest thread of hope that Cloud wasn’t entirely gone the way Barret had said. He would never admit it to anyone, but he’d already forgiven Cloud and Tifa and his parents and Shinra and Avalanche and everything in between. There was no room in his heart for grief anymore, and he’d kept it all buried for so long. It was easier to just let go when given the opportunity, and Cloud had done that when he saved Denzel from certain death at the hands of the assassin with two daggers. When Denzel lay bloodied at Cloud’s feet, Cloud hadn’t turned away. He hadn’t left him. And that’s was enough to make Denzel fall apart. Like a goddamn child. And he wouldn’t have it any other way now. 

Suddenly, Denzel realized where they were heading. 

“No, please don’t make me go home,” he begged at once, seeing the airship landing zone coming into view. “Please, I want to stay with you.”

“None of this city is safe. You know that,” Cloud replied and just kept walking. 

“But you can still come home. Please! Stay with me! Marlene would be so happy to see you. She’ll never believe me if I return without you! She’ll think I’m lying about the whole thing!” Denzel shouted in frustration and he tugged on Cloud’s sleeve. He couldn’t return to Marlene empty-handed. It was impossible. He’d be a failure forever in her eyes. 

“Stop this, Denzel,” Cloud snapped at him. 

“Just leave this place! Just come home with me!” He didn’t care that he was begging. It was pathetic and he didn’t care. Time was running out. The airship would approach soon and then he’d be lost all over again. 

“I can’t!” Cloud shoved Denzel’s arm away in a rush of anger, but he quickly collected himself and glanced around self-consciously. Then he continued in a much lower voice, “I can’t just go back to Kalm and live with you and Marlene and pretend to be happy. There is a lot you don’t understand about me, Denzel.”

Denzel blinked fast, but still wasn’t about to give up. “But...but, you’re all I have. I don’t… I can’t…”

“It won’t ever leave me, Denzel. That person you saw in Icicle Inn. This is who I am now. I can’t run away from it. Or hide. Or play pretend anymore with a family,” Cloud stated definitively, “I’m sorry, Denzel. I should have never gotten you involved. I should have left you in Kalm that day after Tifa died instead of letting you follow me. I just…” Cloud’s voice was much softer now, “I just can’t take care of you. I’m not built for that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is so fucked up.” Cloud paused for a beat then, “But things can never go back to how they were. I hope you can understand.”

But the boy didn’t want to understand. Everything still felt so foreign, but through the dreadful echo of his memories, he somehow knew Cloud was right. Underneath it all, Cloud was still a bit of a mystery. A man who’d saved him from certain death many times but whom he always felt distant from, strangely. The recent scare with the sniper hadn’t brought them closer together, as Denzel perhaps felt.

They reached the airship landing zone and entered the sheltered building, open on three sides providing somewhat adequate refuge from the rain. A dozen or so other passengers stood nearby with suitcases in tow, waiting out the weather as well. 

“I’ll stay with you until the ship arrives, but that’s it,” Cloud said.

The pair stood silently, next to each other, looking mildly out of place amidst the other people. For one, none of the others had blood on their sneakers or carried oversized weapons on their backs. 

“Cloud?”

“...Yes?”

“How did you get out of that room in the hospital basement? After I saw you?” Denzel had been wanting to ask this since they’d first run into each other in that corridor, and now he didn’t want to leave without knowing the truth. 

“I can defend myself without a sword, you know,” Cloud said it like it was a joke, though Denzel wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh. Then Cloud went on, more seriously, “But it does help, so I’m glad you found me when you did. Thanks.”

The single word flicked momentary joy through Denzel and he relaxed slightly, knowing that Cloud would only be thanking him if he didn’t royally mess up as badly as he thought he did. Then the airship arrived, through the wind and light rain outside, and the overhead speaker announced that they would board quickly in light of the incoming storm.

“We’ll see each other again,” Cloud said, as if trying to ease the boy’s apprehension. 

“Marlene won’t believe me,” Denzel groaned, “She won’t believe that I found you and that I told you about how much she misses you. She had vanilla cake for her birthday.”

Cloud smiled. A strange little gesture. “Oh, I bet that was great.”

Denzel looked up into those dimly luminescent eyes. One final attempt. “Please. Don’t make me leave.”

The smile vanished and Cloud straightened. “There’s no discussion.” Then he hesitated, as if considering something very important. At length, he removed something from his pocket. A long chain. Cloud fiddled with it for a moment, then extended his open hand. 

In the center of Cloud’s palm was a drop of silver, a ring. Cloud held it out to Denzel. 

“It was Tifa’s,” Cloud explained without prompt, “I gave it to her long ago. But... “ He dropped the trinket into Denzel’s hand. “It’s for Marlene. So she’ll believe you. Tell her I’ll visit when I can but it might not be for a while. Tell her I still care about her, too.”

Denzel stared down at the silver ring in his hand. It was a tiny wolf emblem, engraved skillfully. It was Tifa’s. Denzel distinctly remembered it now. She’d worn it everywhere! Or she had until Cloud left. He didn’t dare ask how Cloud got it back, though he had a pretty good idea. Denzel closed his fist around the piece of jewelry and felt his heart twist into a knot. 

“...Thanks, Cloud,” Denzel tried to smile as he clutched the ring tight in his pocket. He could practically feel Tifa’s presence swarming around it like static. 

Then Cloud hugged him, a brief sad little moment. Denzel felt the world pause between them and he knew without question that he would somehow see Cloud again. Things would be alright. But there was a distant nagging in the back of his head, like a dim alarm. A little itch. There was so much more bothering Cloud, an immeasurable weight around him, and Denzel wasn’t quite sure what exactly would happen to Cloud. It was like the awful calm before a storm. A magnet slowly being pulled closer to something it can never escape. The dread in Cloud’s eyes was clear, even as he smiled once more at Denzel, even as he motioned for Denzel to quickly board the airship and leave Junon. 

When Denzel had found his seat and settled in for the trip, he glanced back out the windows, searching for any trace of the blonde, just to wave goodbye one last time. He struggled for a moment looking through the crowds but it soon became clear there was nobody out there for him. Cloud had already left.


	12. A Break in the Waves

The airship touched down in Kalm, jolting Denzel awake. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, and the entire escapade in Junon spun fast in his memory. An oversized black sweatshirt was wrapped around his shoulders and a silver ring was in his pocket. It had all been real. The whole thing. 

“Last stop,” the overhead speaker announced.

Denzel vacated his seat and departed the airship into the breezy night air of Kalm. Junon still seemed like a dream, far behind him. He’d ultimately failed at bringing Cloud home, and perhaps Marlene would never forgive him, but he no longer hated Cloud. He’d been saved by the man, again, and he saw Cloud struggling desperately with a whole world of dangerous awful things. Not just the drugs, but the terrible trouble with Godo and Yuffie, too. Things were way out of hand, even for Cloud. Denzel had to help him. This wasn’t something Cloud could do alone, and furthermore Denzel felt drawn to helping him. If he could somehow free Cloud from the dredges of Junon, then Cloud could come home. Maybe if he told Barret everything that had happened, he could enlist some help.

Kalm was dark and quiet, peaceful. Except when he approached Elmyra’s house, there was a light on in the kitchen window which didn’t make sense because Elmyra never stayed up this late and Marlene was likely still in Corel. Cautiously, Denzel turned his key in the front door and slipped inside. 

“Denzel!” a deep familiar voice shouted at once. 

Barret and Marlene stood in the living room, completely to Denzel’s surprise. The young girl rushed over to Denzel, then stopped short. 

“What are you wearing?” She narrowed her eyes and cringed. “Is that... blood?” 

“Where you been, little man?” Barret asked, no hint of joviality in his voice, “Why you comin’ home so late?”

Denzel blinked. The last few days were like a different life, one that stretched years into a separate timeline in which he’d been at Cloud’s side through unreal horrors. His world had been a bubble that he thought was real until it burst into shreds of actual terror, of death, of poison, of running and falling, of cold fear and intense bravery. And Cloud had protected him through it all. He’d emerged from the shadows of Denzel’s nightmares and lifted him up, held him, healed him, brought him safely through the maze of adrenaline. It was all too much to explain. It was too much to even think about. 

The only thing Denzel knew for sure was that Cloud had saved his life, again, and that now Cloud was in terrible danger. 

“I was…” Denzel tried to start, but words wouldn’t come. Instead he reached into his pocket and retrieved the ring. He held it out to Marlene like an offering, a symbol of everything he’d lost and gained. 

She took one look at the silver in his palm and her face lit up. One hand over her mouth, she gasped. 

“Denzel! That’s Tifa’s ring!”

This drew Barret’s attention and he immediately walked over to Denzel, scrutinizing the item that had drawn Marlene’s smile. With one hand, he scooped up the ring. 

“Where you get this?” he asked darkly. 

“Give it back, Barret.” Denzel found his voice. 

“I asked where you got it. Tell me.” Barret became more stern. The ring had stirred a myriad of emotions in everyone. 

“From Cloud!” Marlene chirped, unable to contain herself any longer. “That must be it!” she blurted out, “You found him! You saw him!” Then she excitedly glanced behind Denzel at the door. “Is he here? Did you bring him home?”

Barret closed his fist around the ring and frowned. “You was with Cloud?”

Denzel reached for the ring, but Barret held it away. “Give that back,” Denzel said, “It’s not for you. It’s for Marlene.”

“Marlene ain’t gettin’ nothing from that psycho. Tell me you didn’t really see him.”

“I did,” Denzel admitted, somewhere between defeat and anger, “I went to Junon and I saw him and he’s not nearly as bad as you think. And he’s in trouble. Lots of trouble.”

Marlene froze, mouth open. “Oh no! Denzel, is he sick, like we thought? What’s wrong with him? Why didn’t he come back with you?”

“He needs our help,” Denzel went on, talking to both, “Barret, please, you need to believe me. Call Yuffie! She’ll tell you! Her father is doing something with the military and Cloud is caught in the middle. He’s really in trouble.”

Barret’s glare relaxed and he slowly looked down at the ring, then he held it up to the light. A visible sorrow tugged at his expression as he turned it over, following the curve of the wolf with one finger. Then he handed it back to Denzel. 

“So you did see him,” the older man remarked, “Hm, why he give you Tifa’s ring?”

“I told you already,” Denzel continued, “It’s for Marlene. So she would believe me. Cloud wanted her to have it.” Then Denzel turned to Marlene. “He says he misses you and he will come see you when he can.”

She trembled and clutched her arms in front of her, eyes locked on Denzel. Tears welled up despite her big smile. Barret watched, not yet ready to relax. 

“Cloud is bad news, Denzel. I told you that already.” Then he paused as if realizing something. “Marlene, this obviously your idea. You wanted to see Cloud back when we was in Junon for your birthday. So, what, you sent Denzel out? To find Cloud? That was a bad idea, baby girl. A very bad idea.”

But Marlene wasn’t listening. She had taken Tifa’s ring from Denzel and was happily holding it to her chest, eyes closed. “Cloud will come back,” she whispered. Her behavior was so silly and childlike, but Denzel couldn’t help but feel the tiny warmth of success. If he couldn’t bring the man himself back, he at the very least had brought Marlene some hope. A little something to dispel her dreary waiting. 

“Barret, please,” Denzel turned his attention back, pleading, “Please, you’ve got to help Cloud. He’s in a lot of trouble and he needs us. Junon is swarming with Godo’s military and Cloud is being targeted.” Though Denzel wasn’t entirely sure if that were true. It could be just as likely that Godo was being targeted by Cloud, but Denzel didn’t care anymore. He only wanted Cloud safe, and something was tugging desperately at him to get help and return to Junon. 

“Godo?” Barret raised his voice in a terse laugh. “I ain’t gettin’ involved with Yuffie’s old man. She would kill me.”

Denzel didn’t laugh. It angered him that Barret could be so dismissive. “Yeah? Well, she may kill Cloud for real if we don’t go back to Junon and help him.”

Marlene opened her eyes, ring still firmly between her hands. She seemed lost in a strange daze. 

Barret cleared his throat. “Look, man,” he suddenly became very serious, “I think it’s about time I tell you why Cloud left to begin with.”

Denzel didn’t understand why this was relevant. “Yeah, Tifa asked him to leave. We all know that.”

Barret grimaced. “You know why she ask him to leave?”

Marlene became very still and her big round eyes stared up at her surrogate father. He sighed. 

“I ain’t never wanted to say none of this in front of Marlene, but I think it’s time you both learn the truth about Cloud and why he an’ Tifa broke it off.”

But Denzel didn’t want to hear it. This all only angered him more. “I don’t care!” he suddenly shouted, “I don’t care what Cloud did in the past or why things went wrong with Tifa. I know they loved each other and I know Cloud did his best and some awful things happened to all of us. But I don’t care anymore. All I care about is helping him right now because he needs us. He needs you!”

Barret put his hands on his hips, looking down in stoic silence. Then it dawned on Denzel that he actually had no idea why Barret was in Kalm to begin with. He didn’t belong here.

“Wait,” Denzel said defiantly, “What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Corel? ...With Marlene?”

“Denzel,” Marlene chimed in, stepping towards him, but there was sadness in her eyes, “Elmyra is sick. She’s in the hospital in Edge.”

It hit him like a sobering slap. He blinked.

“She’s doing really bad,” Marlene went on, “and I asked Barret to wait here in case you showed up. Because I knew you’d gone to Junon looking for Cloud, and I knew you only had enough money for a few days.”

The world spun, and Denzel felt it all happening again. His parent’s dying, Tifa never coming home, Cloud disappearing into Junon. Cloud being shot in the street, bleeding out on the pavement. But no, Elmyra wasn’t gone yet. She was still alive. She was in the hospital. He swallowed and let out a breath. 

“She’s in Edge?” 

Marlene nodded. “Barret and I were gonna head over there to be with her. The doctors say she isn’t doing okay. I wanted you to come too…”

Denzel fought against the emotions rising in his chest. “No, Cloud needs us. I can’t… I can’t deal with Elmyra right now. I can’t. I just…” he exhaled. “I just don’t think I can see her sick like that. I just need to focus on one thing right now.”

The room was silent for a moment. Two worlds were struggling for control over Denzel’s heart. Cloud and Junon and Yuffie were a mess of active confrontation while Elmyra, the woman who’d cared for him when nobody else could, lay dying in a hospital bed in the city. Both were running out of time. Denzel was running out of time, too. 

“I just need to…” He should’ve had a hard time deciding which was the right path. He should’ve paused and thought of Elmyra, but the awful truth was that he only cared about Cloud. After coming so close to him and glimpsing the intensity of a life at his side, Denzel knew he couldn’t go back. There was something new gnawing at him, crawling under his skin, though he couldn’t find the words to express it. “I just need…”

Barret huffed. “You need to come with us to Edge,” he replied impatiently, then he sighed and put a hand on Denzel’s shoulder. “Look, I know you been through somethin’ awful tonight and I know you prolly exhausted and thinkin’ all sorts of crazy things, ‘specially if you hanging around Cloud… But we going to Edge tonight and we going to see Elmyra. And that’s the end of it.”

Denzel lifted his head to protest, but a sudden somber image of Elmyra lying on her deathbed in some sepia-toned hospital kept him quiet. 

Barret continued, “So go on, get yourself cleaned up. Then we going right away. All of us.”

Marlene stood pinned in place, big eyes watching Denzel, the ring still clasped in her hands. “Maybe Cloud will come to Edge, too,” she spoke softly, “Maybe he’ll visit.”

Months ago, Denzel would’ve poked fun at Marlene for being such a baby, for thinking something so impossible and stupid, but tonight he did no such thing. With small weary steps, he headed to his bedroom to get a fresh change of clothes, then he went to the bathroom to shower. 

He heard nothing more of Barret or Marlene out in the living room, and the swirl of blood down the drain between his feet made him feel nauseous. There was blood spattered in his hair and under his nails. Even his shoes would need to be washed. All evidence of another life. At length, he was showered and clean with no trace of his adventure through the underbelly of Junon save some bruising on his face and complete mental exhaustion. He grabbed another spare change of clothing in case they stayed longer in Edge, then went downstairs.

He hated the powerlessness of being bossed around by Barret. He hated that he couldn’t clearly convey how important helping Cloud was or how much his trip to Junon meant to Marlene. That ring was proof enough that Cloud wasn’t a cold-hearted killer, and Denzel wished he had the capacity to get his point across to Barret. But ultimately, he knew that going to Edge was inevitable. Barret was not an easy man to argue with. 

The car ride to the city was tense and quiet. Denzel managed to doze off a couple times, but his dreams were filled with bloodshed and fright and he awoke each time thankful to be in the safe vicinity of Barret and Marlene. He wondered about Cloud and, for a moment, whether the entire thing hadn’t been some sort of drug-induced dream. Maybe the entire escapade in Junon after the club was just one bad long trip, with Cloud as a convenient focal point of fantasy. 

It did seem possible, he conceded, except the ring was proof. But when he gazed over at Marlene in the darkness, he saw her asleep too in the intermittent flashes of light from the street lamps and it suddenly seemed less plausible that she was carrying Tifa’s wondrous silver ring in her pocket, a relic of happier times. 

Though the hour was late, the city of Edge was wide awake, and Barret had to circle their car around the blocks near the hospital several times before finding a place to park. At last they arrived. Denzel remembered coming here with Elmyra before, but he’d never actually gone far inside the huge structure. It was like a giant breathing beast of tan and beige bricks, mouth sliding open as they approached. 

He followed Barret past the reception area to a large set of stainless steel elevators. Marlene hadn’t said anything the entire time, anxiously fiddling with her hands. They walked past several signs, down winding corridors, behind another set of elevators, then through big double swinging doors. The place had an oddly reminiscent feel to the downtrodden Junon military hospital. The ruined corridors spiked to life in Denzel’s mind, momentarily covering him in shivers. Maybe it was the same layout, he told himself. Maybe all hospitals just had that uneasy vibe. 

Barret turned the corner and stopped short. Halfway down the hall stood two people hugging close. Denzel recognized them at once. It was Shera and Cid, and Shera was in tears. 

“Barret…” Cid greeted him, but it was a flat weighty tone that meant so much more than just hello. Shera unwrapped herself from Cid’s arms and sheepishly wiped her cheeks, settling her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. She knelt and extended a warm welcome to Marlene. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Shera said, bursting into tears once more, hugging Marlene, “I’m so very sorry.”

Denzel froze. Barret moved forward, put his arm around Cid’s shoulders, and Denzel realized Cid had been crying too. He’d never seen the other man so distraught. A man whose strength seemed undeniably solid now seemed as fragile and fragmented as anyone else. And Denzel suddenly realized why. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Cid was saying quietly to Barret, “It just fuckin’ happened. The docs were there, and we were there, and it was peaceful. Just real… fuckin’ sad. It’s just…” He broke off, choking down a sob. 

Barret’s face went ashen. Then his head bowed. He knelt next to Marlene and hugged both her and Shera between his massive arms. 

“She’s gone…?” Marlene’s tiny voice spoke up. 

“Yeah, baby,” Barret replied softly, “She’s gone.”

Marlene burst into tears. Denzel felt his knees give out and he caught himself on the concrete wall nearby. Patients and nurses and others passed by in the hall, giving looks of sympathy or concern, but nobody questioned what they were going through. It was an everyday occurance to some, an unavoidable possibility to others. Denzel held himself up and approached the door where they had all gathered outside. It was a patient’s room, but within was dark and empty. If Elmyra had been here at some point, any trace of her was gone. 

And it was Denzel’s fault they hadn’t made it in time. He knew it. 

Nobody was saying it, but he felt it in the air the moment he spotted Cid and Shera standing in the hallway. They were too late to say goodbye because Denzel had been off in Junon on some impossible quest and then he’d argued with Barret upon returning. If only he’d agreed to go right away, maybe they couldn’t made it in time. Maybe if he hadn’t gone to Junon at all… 

Dimly, he heard the others speaking in soft hushed tones. Cid and Shera were telling Barret something while Marlene buried her face in Barret’s shirt. Finally, Shera peeked back at Denzel and opened her arms to him. 

He took a few steps forward, not even aware of anything aside from reaching her, then fell into her embrace. She was warm and strong and comforting. For a moment, it felt like a motherly hug and it made him miss Tifa so fiercely that suddenly he too began to cry. 

She was gone. Tifa. The empty space that would never be filled. And now Elmyra had been taken from him, too. It was all part of a pattern in his head that he couldn’t stop thinking about, and there was a stillness in that moment he would never forget. A terrible snapshot of nothing but Shera’s hug and the vast infinite failure in his heart of not making it there in time. His last words to Elmyra had been something banal, he decided, something inadequate. He’d never be able to let this go.

The hallway moved around him. Shera was walking with him over to another room, a type of lounge maybe, was handing him a paper cup of water. It felt so quiet suddenly, even though he knew people around him were talking. He sat on some hard woven fabric chair, and Marlene sat with him. There were occasions of noise and silence and time passed yet still Denzel felt frozen. Marlene leaned against his shoulder. She’d stopped crying at some point, though her eyes and cheeks remained red. 

He simply sat there with her, feeling the grief in the air, surrounding the small groups of adults talking softly nearby. He should’ve felt more for Elmyra, for Marlene. For Barret and Cid and everyone that knew her and would miss her. But inside him burned another desire that twisted into hard guilt. It consumed all of his thoughts because there was only one person he thought could comfort him now. There was one person he had left, and the heartbreak all around him only made Denzel want to retreat further into a different place altogether. 

Somewhere very far from Edge. Somewhere he could actually help the person he missed most. Yes, he admitted finally to himself, sitting motionless in that uncomfortable room in the hospital, he’d always missed Cloud the most. 

And he knew he had to get back to Junon.


End file.
